


Joanna says (I have to give it time)

by Willy44



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Acceptance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Blood and Violence, Bucky - Freeform, Cas needs a dog, Character Death, Coming Out, Depressed Castiel, Depressed Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Dog - Freeform, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, High School, Hospitalization, Insomniac Dean Winchester, Jody is a doctor, Jody is not a cop, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Prison, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Underage Drinking, bucky the german shepherd, cas has a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 98,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willy44/pseuds/Willy44
Summary: Castiel has grown up a gay child in a homophobic family, but when things went too far his aunt showed up, taking him to a new city, and a place he could call his home. There he meets Jo, brilliant, funny Jo, who he soon learns also has a troubled past.When Cas gets to know Jo's brother Dean, however, he finally understands what it means to love with all your heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! I made another one!  
> Honestly, this is one that's been buried deep down on my computer for ages. I made it with different names, a shot at a "real" book, but since that's never going to happen I figured I might as well change it up to a pure Destiel fic! Due to this originally being a non-supernatural fic, there are some things you will notice and probably wrinkle your nose at (I don't like it either, but I had no idea how to solve it in some other way).  
> -Jody is not a cop. She is, in fact, a doctor. And Cas's aunt. I wanted it to be Ellen, but Cas and Jo are best friends so that would be too weird.  
> -Chuck is ONCE AGAIN supreme-douch-dad-number-one. I'm so sorry. I really like Chuck. This does not reflect my own feelings towards him.  
> -Lisa Braeden. Just... I don't even know. I needed someone that Dean would be into.  
> -Bobby is far away and nowhere to be seen which breaks my heart, but I can't find a single character that would suit him. I guess this is the problem when you take your old story and just change the names.

Castiel Novak had not expected to like Graham’s High School, since he had never once in his life enjoyed going to school. However, during the four months he had spent there, he had gone from loathing his life to loving it. Honestly, he could picture himself being sad to leave the school on graduation day seven months from now.

He’d grown quite fond of the place. The name-calling and pushing him into lockers wasn’t as terrifying in Cleveland as it had been on Parson Christian High School back in Tennessee, where three broken ribs, a punctured lung and hypothermia had made his aunt realize that it was time to get him out. On Graham’s, the worst injuries Castiel would suffer from was some mild bruising. 

But that wasn’t even the best part of the school. 

No, because now, he had _friends_. 

He had actual, real-life, goofy, annoying friends that loved him. 

Benny, the big brother type who always made sure that everyone got tickets to the movies, and kept the bickering that always seemed to break out at a controlled level. Most days that meant keeping Meg’s energy at bay. 

Meg was a sweetheart, but the kind that absolutely always was right and nothing anyone said could prove her wrong. At least not until Benny pulled out an encyclopedia to show her that Iceland really was a country, and not just an island with a lot of ice on it. 

Charlie, well, Charlie wasn’t around much. Her ambitious plans to travel the world after graduation meant that every free minute was scheduled up with work, work, and more work. They had at one point considered printing a life-sized cardboard copy of her to at least remember what she looked like, an idea that had originally sprung from Kevin. 

No one really knew why Kevin had the sense of humor he did, something they often teased him about. Kevin was a real-life genius. Having skipped two classes he was only sixteen, but always ahead of the rest of them when it came to school, and somehow still able to have an incredible ability to always come up with something for them to do – things that Benny made sure actually happened. 

Then there was Joanna. Jo. Joanna Winchester. The most beautiful person any one of them would ever lay eyes on. Some inexplicable shot of luck in the gene pool had given both her and her two brothers smooth pale skin, prominent cheekbones and alluring, dark eyes. But while her brothers had Gordon brown hair, hers was a brilliant blonde. She was so beautiful. When he told her, afraid that she was going to laugh in his face and walk away, she had flashed a wide grin and pulled him in for a hug, letting him hide his flaming cheeks in her hair. 

Somewhere along the way they had become best friends. After a lesson, walking out of the classroom, one of the football jocks had grabbed Castiel’s notebook and tossed it up in the air, spreading a hundred paper sheets across the floor. Everyone had just walked by, ignoring it. Everyone but Jo. 

“Do you have hand spasms?” she’d said to the jock, quite composed, getting a sly smile in response. 

“What?”

“I asked you if you have FUCKING HAND SPASMS?” (not quite as composed). 

“Uh, no-“

“Then get on the floor and pick up those papers!” Her raised voice had attracted a little crowd, and soon a teacher came along.

“What’s going on?”

“We just ruled out that Michael the Jock here doesn’t have Parkinson’s,” Jo explained to the teacher, a few chuckles spreading around the crowd.

“None of that nonsense now, Joanna.”

“NONSENSE? He’s learning some fucking common decency!”

To sum it up, she’d ended up in detention, Michael the Jock had been allowed to leave, and Castiel had ended up with a friend.

Said friend was now knocking impatiently on his front door while he was scurrying around looking for the key.

“I can’t believe you lost the normal key AND the spare key!” she yelled through the slot.

“I was sure I’d put it in my coat-“

“Your aunt has been away for one day. ONE day.”

“Not really helping, Jo.” 

“That’s it, open up a fucking window for me. I’m climbing-“

“Got it!” Castiel rushed to the door before Jo decided to act on impulse and break it down. Once the door was unlocked she practically shoved it into Castiel’s face, yearning for the warmth of his house. 

“Shit, it’s freezing outside,” Jo exclaimed. Castiel winced as he took in the shuddering Jo, wearing nothing but a thin black trench coat over her dark green dress. 

“You do know there’s something called a winter jacket?“

“Never mind. Are you ready to go or what?” Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes, motioning at her to go inside to the kitchen. He had hastily put on a pair of sweatpants as she had begun her knocking ten minutes earlier, and had been too distracted by the frantic search for a key to put on a shirt.

Jo murmured at him to get dressed, and took a seat on the kitchen counter in the meantime. Castiel scurried off through the living room, over the temporary dog-stopping-barrier that consisted of a few cushions and a chair and had been in place for four months now, past the closed bedroom door and then the bathroom before he reached his room. 

 

Living with his aunt had proven to be much easier than he had originally thought, and he had fitted right into her routines. It was simple. It was nice. She woke him up in the mornings as she left for work at the hospital, then he had breakfast in front of the TV, went for a walk with Bucky the German Shepherd, waited for Jo to bust in through the door and biked to school with her. 

However, his aunt being away for nine days for a lecture in Washington meant that Castiel had overslept, been awakened by a barking Bucky and had no time for breakfast before Jo had showed up at his doorstep right in the middle of his quick morning shower. 

“Cas, we’ve got to go!” 

“Coming.” Throwing on the first pair of pants other than sweatpants he could find, along with a plain t-shirt, Castiel was dressed twelve seconds later and had even had time to pack his school bag. 

Waiting in the hall was Jo, a sandwich and an old plastic coke-bottle filled with orange juice in hand and a smile on her face. 

“Did you even TRY to tame your hair this morning?” she teased and ran her fingers through Castiel’s thick dark hair. He frowned at her and combed through the mess.

“Better?”

She laughed and said, “Perfect. Here’s your breakfast.”

“I’ve too much stuff in my-“

“Give me the keys-“

“Just wait till I’ve locked-“

“Give me the fucking KEYS.” They bickered on for a few more moments until Jo snatched the keys from Castiel’s hand and simultaneously handed him the sandwich and juice. After ushering him out the door she followed and locked it, being redundantly clear with placing the key in the front left pocket of his jeans.

While pushing both her own green bike and Castiel’s black one to let him finish his breakfast, Jo held a five-minute long resume on Spending Last Night With her Brothers, which included a lot of swear words and speaking with caps lock on. Castiel nodded and smiled every now and then, trying to remember if it was Sam or Dean who was the oldest. 

“…so Dean tried to convince me to let him drive, DESPITE being so fucking drunk that he couldn’t even stand up straight, and Sam just kind of silently went up to me and asked: ‘Can I drive when he passes out?’” 

Dean was the oldest. Definitely Dean.

There were quite a lot of rumors going around at Graham’s about the oldest Winchester brother, some of them because of his ridiculous handsomeness, some because he could be really intimidating. Several girls and boys had come up to Jo and asked her if Dean _had_ been in prison or if people were just lying about it. Jo usually told them to fuck off, which had left her in detention more than once. 

The only thing she had revealed when Castiel had asked her about the prison-thing later, in private, was that it was true. She refused to say anything more, and Castiel wasn’t really one to pry. 

Dean intrigued him. They shared some classes, but not enough for Castiel to have learned his name properly. If Castiel didn’t know any better he would have said that he was a quiet guy, who usually didn’t want to get into trouble. 

Unfortunately, he did know better. 

Just as Castiel had a small group of close friends, Dean had one of his own. But while Castiel’s friends spent their time watching movies or having food fights in Meg’s kitchen, Dean’s would spend theirs smoking and drinking in the abandoned shopping mall on the outskirts of the city center, or in one of the few bars that let in minors. Those were subjects that Jo was not prone to discuss. 

“I can’t believe he got that drunk on a Sunday night,” Castiel huffed out between his strained breaths. They had just biked up Miller Hill Avenue, the steepest hill in town, that was suitably placed right between Castiel’s house and the school. The nickname “Killer Hill” wasn’t just someone fooling around. 

“Dude, you’re such a fucking…YOU sometimes.” Jo was quite winded too, so they let the bikes roll on slowly without pedaling while catching their breaths. 

“Ouch.”

“He’s just…Dean. I guess he needs it, you know? He needs to let off some steam.”

“Still.” 

“Alright, poster boy.” She grabbed his arm to move along at his speed as he started pedaling, and once again Castiel was struck by how truly beautiful she was with her bright hair dancing wildly around her, and her intense dark eyes open wide to the world around her. A few freckles dotted her straight nose, and Castiel could imagine how they would multiply when the sun came out again in the summer. 

“You’re doing the staring again, Cas.” Castiel quickly tore his eyes off her and back on the road, but there was something about her voice when she said it that made him glance back. The words had been quiet, peaceful, and she had been looking up at the sky and not at him like she usually did. 

“Kinderhook?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, giving a small smile at their far-fetched version of ‘okay’. The whole thing had started up when Jo had made Castiel watch The Fault In Our Stars with her, mostly because she knew she was going to cry and didn’t want to see it by herself. She had, after the film and half a box of tissues, decided that they were going to have a word of their own. So, after what must have been at least fifteen seconds of googling, she came up with ‘Kinderhook’. Apparently some guy named Martin who was running for president came up with the slogan ‘Vote for OK’, OK being short for Old Kinderhook, which was the place he was born. 

As ridiculous as it was, Kinderhook had stuck. 

“I just…Do you ever feel like your life is just dangerously close to tipping over the edge?”

“The edge of what?”

“I don’t know.” She looked straight into his eyes, a look that spoke of all the things she was keeping from him, things she was keeping from everyone. “That’s the scary part.” 

“You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay, and you’ll go to college, work as a hair-tie engineer, buy ten dogs and live until you’re one hundred and twelve years old.”

“Hair-tie-quality does need some improvement.” Castiel reached out to squeeze her arm, but ended up grabbing her hand instead. 

“You’ll be okay.” 

“I know. You too, Cas.” They fell into a silence that lasted until they reached the frost-covered grass field that marked the southern border of Graham’s High School. In summer, the field was constantly used for PE-lessons that at the moment took place indoors instead. Now it was deserted, besides the footprints leading to and from the school. 

“Have you heard anything from Jody?” Castiel gave a lopsided grin at the mention of his aunt. 

“She called yesterday to let me know she’d arrived safely. I reckon she’s too busy to have time to talk to me.”

“That’s ridiculous. You should call her tonight, she’d appreciate that.” 

“You think so?”

“I know so” She punched him lightly on the arm, having gotten off the bike at the edge of the field. When they reached the parking lot that was two-thirds occupied by bikes, they left theirs next to each other, Jo locking hers quickly. Castiel’s lock was jammed, and he hadn’t had time to get it fixed – he could only hope that no one was foolish enough to steal a bike in November.

Because, honestly, who would want to ride a bike in November?

Jo led the way into the school, promptly ignoring Dean’s friends that were huddled up in thin coats, taking a few minutes to smoke before the warning bell rang. Dean was absent, which Castiel guessed had some connection to Jo’s story about Spending Last Night With her Brothers. Thoughts of Dean rushed through his brain one moment, and the next they had vanished. Now he was just going to get through the day.

 

Graham’s High School consisted of three separate buildings, Crosby, Stills and Nash.It had taken two months before Castiel finally asked Jo what the names meant, which had rewarded him with a two-hour long lecture about the three artists and the benefits of having a brother who was really into music. 

Crosby was the largest building, with four floors cramped with classrooms and lockers. Nash was the next in size, where there were more classrooms, a library and plenty of places to study in silence. Castiel and his friends all had their lockers in Nash. Stills consisted of the cafeteria, the teachers’ offices and the gymnasium, and had quite possibly been Castiel’s least favorite place on earth before Jo had stepped in and offered her friendship. Castiel had refused to set his foot in Stills, his previous experiences of cafeterias being that they were not a place you wanted to go to if you were a lonely kind of guy. Jo had changed both his perception of the place and the fact that he had been lonely. 

Now, however, she had left him for French, while he was going to literature. They split up after meeting Kevin at the lockers, and Castiel headed over to Crosby alone. The distance between the buildings wasn’t more than twenty meters, but it was far enough for Castiel to get a chill from the cold. He brushed his hands over his arms a few times when inside to try to warm up, while taking two steps at a time up the stairs. 

He should have known that someone would be there, because someone was always there. Every time he was alone he had the bad luck of running into one of the jocks. If Benny was with Castiel they wouldn’t pay any attention to him, respecting Benny enough to not mess with him. Benny, who was actually part of the school’s soccer team, spent no more time with his teammates than absolutely necessary. 

Castiel spotted Michael, had time to think that he was glad it wasn’t Zach, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“What’s up Novie-Novak?” Michael sneered in his usual manner. Castiel groaned and tried to go back down the stairs, but he was blocked by Michael’s friend, Raphael. Choosing not to reply, Castiel once again tried to get past Michael. 

“What’s the rush?” 

“Um, Parker, we have an exam in four minutes,” Raphael mumbled, Michael looking as if he was gathering the strength to not go after him instead. 

“I know! Damn it, you’re one lucky guy Novak,” Michael sighed while shaking his head, and waved at Raphael to come. “Let’s go.” They turned away from Castiel, and for a split, naïve second, he thought that maybe this time they would leave him without bruises. 

The thought alone was naïve, even for Castiel. 

Michael took two quick steps towards Castiel, shook his head and shoved him into the wall. However his hands hit Castiel’s body diagonally, resulting in Castiel losing his balance and falling backwards down the stairs. He was able to get a grip on the railings, but still stumbled down to the next landing on his knees. 

When he was finally not moving anymore, he slowly straightened out his legs. They hurt like hell, but nothing was broken. With a lot more willpower than he knew he had Castiel made himself stand and got back up the stairs. Michael was not going to ruin his day by making him come late to one of his favorite lessons. 

The classroom door was already open when Castiel turned the corner, so he sped up on his aching legs in worry of being late. When he stepped inside, however, he was met by chaos. A few people looked up at him, both excited and terrified of the possibility that he might be the teacher, but simply smiled excitedly when they recognized him as someone in their own age and quickly turned their backs to him again. 

The chaos that everyone was watching was none other than Dean Winchester, wrestling Zach the jock in the middle of the classroom with desks and chairs strewn around them. Zach was clearly on the losing side, despite being at least a head taller than Dean, who on the other hand was fit underneath the denim jacket, and apparently a much more skilled fighter. 

Castiel watched the quite unfair match with a gaping mouth, not even realizing that their teacher, Mrs. Johnson – who happened to be Castiel’s form teacher – had walked in until she was screaming next to his ear.

“What the hell is going on?” Mrs. Johnson’s voice rang through the room, and every single person in the room froze in their position, everyone except Zach, who kept throwing punches towards Dean’s face, punches that the motionless Dean easily deflected. Suddenly Zach looked up, presumably wondering why the crowd had gone silent, and spotted the teacher.

“He started it!” Zach cried, jabbing an angry fingers towards Dean, who simply smiled up at his opponent.

“You fucking coward,” Dean chuckled and let his head fall down on the floor in defeat. 

“I don’t care who started it, you two just earned yourselves two hours each in detention. Now scoot off to the nurse before I take you on a round myself! The rest of you, clean this mess up.” Dean and Zach quietly shuffled their way out of the classroom, and soon the desks and chairs had been replaced in neat lines. There were a few drops of blood on the floor that Mrs. Johnson decided to leave alone. One battle at a time, apparently. 

“Unless there are any more brawls about to break out, I thought I’d let you all choose a book to read today.” A few girls in the back began chattering excitedly, but were cut off by the teacher: “I have thirty-two books that you can choose from, first come first served. Let’s go!” Mrs. Johnson pulled out a piece of paper that she placed on the desk, then a cardboard box filled to the brim with books next to it, and before Castiel could even blink the entire class was crowded around the desk, trying to get the best picks. Not really daring to push his way to the front to even _see_ what books there were, Castiel waited for his turn, running his fingers over a lump that was slowly forming on his left knee. 

There were three books left – one for him, one for Dean and one for Zach. _Ivanhoe_ , _The Canterbury Tales_ and _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_. 

Castiel stared blankly at the covers of the pockets. He’d seen the movie _Ivanhoe_ , and had really not enjoyed the action and the love and the confusing plot. _Canterbury Tales_ was a title he vaguely recognized, but the last book was completely unknown to him. 

_One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_. How bad could it be?

He picked up the pink, yellow and green book and signed his name on the piece of paper before limping back to his seat. While Mrs. Johnson resumed to talking about the day’s lesson, Castiel opened the book and read a line at random: 

_“They don't bother not talking out loud about their hate secrets when I'm nearby because they think I'm deaf and dumb. Everybody thinks so.”_

Interesting. 

Castiel looked up from his book only to find that his classmates had grown silent, noses buried behind the pages, so he flipped back to the beginning of the book and started to read. 

Dean returned a few minutes later, with a not-so-discreet whisper about Zach having to wait to get some stitches for his busted eyebrow. Mrs. Johnson visibly fought to not roll her eyes, and instead instructed Dean to pick up a book, sit down and be quiet. For once, she didn’t have to say it twice. 

 

The lesson passed without further incidents, besides Mrs. Johnson asking Dean to stay behind for a few minutes when the rest of them left. Castiel returned to Nash to change to his math books, and decided to wait by his and Kevin’s lockers for the rest of his friends. 

Benny was the first to arrive, math books already in hand and a grin on his face as he spotted Castiel. 

“How’re you doing?” 

“Good,” Castiel replied, clasping the hand that Benny held out. “How was French?”

“ _Trés bien_!” Benny exclaimed in an accent that even Castiel could tell was bad, without knowing a single word of French. 

“That about all you can say?”

“Yeah, just about it,” he grinned, laughing shortly. Jo and Meg arrived just then, and a few moments later Kevin joined them as well. 

“There’s this new café downtown, we should go check it out!” Kevin’s typical words of greeting. Meg nodded enthusiastically, but Jo groaned in response.

“Can’t we go to the market? We haven’t been there in ages!”

“We were there last Friday, Jo,” Castiel chimed in.

Anna added, “and on Sunday.” 

“AGES ago! Please?” Four pairs of eyes tried to resist Jo’s pleading ones, but they were all unable to.

“Fine,” Benny sighed in defeat, and then it was decided. Just as they were getting ready to go to math class, Charlie came running, scarf around her neck and backpack on her back, cheeks blushed from the cold. 

“I just had cardio session outside! Mrs. Bewell is trying to kill us, I swear!” 

“Hey, Charlie,” the rest of them said in sync, making Charlie roll her eyes. “There’s still plenty of time before next lesson, who wants coffee?” 

“We start in two minutes,” Meg smiled, and got one back from Charlie.

“As I said, plenty of time. I’ll see you upstairs.” And then she’d run off again.

“She’s going to have a heart attack someday,” Castiel muttered, Benny nodding in agreement. 

“It’s probably been scheduled into her calendar. Two-thirty, shift at Nettie’s coffee shop. Four-thirty, heart attack.”

“Not funny, guys,”Meg groaned, still looking in the direction where Charlie had disappeared. Benny slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the staircase.

“Come on, if we’re not there before her she’ll think she’s in the wrong classroom.”

“And then she’ll definitely have that heart attack.”

They walked off to room 242, where they were facing eighty minutes of algebra. Benny took the lead as usual, and once they reached the classroom he chose a window seat, Meg sitting next to him, Jo and Castiel in front and Kevin behind, saving a seat for Charlie when she came running a minute later, coffee cup and chocolate bar in hand. Just as she sat down their teacher, Balthazar, stepped into the classroom. 

“I’m glad to see you sitting in your seat today, Charlie,” he grinned, while setting his bag down on the desk, pulling out a whiteboard marker. 

“When am I not on time?” Charlie chuckled in response, a fact that Castiel realized was completely true – even though Charlie always came breathless, she always came on time. Looking over at Jo, Castiel could have sworn he just missed her wiping away a tear from her cheek. 

“Kinderhook?” he asked. She forced a smile and nodded, grabbing his hand underneath the desk. Taking a deep breath, she shook the distressed expression off her face and let go of Castiel’s hand, grinning in the process. “You’re going to have to help me with the algebra.”

It was disturbing how quickly she could change from looking like a soaked puppy to the beaming girl she usually was. 

The sound of the marker drawing on the whiteboard was enough to break Castiel’s worrying thoughts, and he resumed to focusing on Balthazar’s voice. 

 

Jo showed no more signs of being upset for the rest of the day, she even managed to get into a tickling match with Meg during lunch, which resulted in the two of them lying on the floor laughing while Benny tried to talk the kitchen staff out of reporting them for making a mess. 

Meg may or may not have knocked over her bowl while attempting to get out of Jo’s grasp on her arm. Either way, their table was drenched in soup. 

After being let off with nothing but a warning, thanks to Benny, Meg and Jo led the way to their last lesson of the day: history. Kevin headed off by himself to his extended math class, with a promise to meet them back by Castiel’s and Jo’s lockers when they had finished. 

During the two hour long lesson Mrs. Rowena walked around the classroom while telling them about England during the middle ages. Just as Castiel was jotting down some notes about the plague, Jo slipped a piece of paper onto his notebook. He gave her a questioning glance, but she seemed deeply engrossed in the lecture, so he unfolded the paper instead. 

_U busy tonight?_

Poking her arm to gain her attention, he shook his head, upon which she snatched the paper back and scribbled a few more words.

_Can I sleep over?_

He smiled and nodded, which earned him a thumbs up and a grin. The lesson continued without any more quiet messages, and on their way back to the lockers Jo hooked her arm through Castiel’s and looked up at him, flashing white teeth.

“It’s your turn to pick a movie,” she exclaimed, bumping into him a little with every step. 

“I really don’t know any good movies, maybe you-“

“GREAT. Because we HAVE to watch the new Marvel movie.” 

“Which is…?”

“Ever heard of Ant-man?”

“Is Ant-man Marvel?”

“CAS!”

“Sorry, of course, Ant-man, got you.” She laughed and punched his shoulder softly, shaking her head.

“You’re such a dork sometime. Don’t worry, I think you’ll like it!” 

“Alright then, Ant-man it is. What do you want to eat?”

“We can just order some pizza or something,” she suggested, rolling her eyes as Castiel frowned at the notion of ordering food. Quickly she added, “or you can cook me something. Lasagna?”

“Sounds good.” 

“It’ll be awesome. But now we’re going TO THE MARKET!” she exclaimed, Meg’s half-enthusiastic whoop the only response she got. 

 

No one really knew why Jo was so obsessed with spending her time at the market. The maze of stands and constantly crowded cafés would have been annoying if it weren’t for the fact that the entire atmosphere in the building was extraordinary. People were happy at the market – no one was walking around with their heads down, or bumping into others because they had been distracted by their phones. 

No, people at the market were friendly, greeted you with a nod when you walked by, old ladies and men got help carrying their shopping bags out to their cars, and children could run around without the parents being afraid to lose them in the crowd. Perhaps that’s what Jo enjoyed: the way the market transformed hundreds of strangers into helpful and caring friends. No one knew. 

They didn’t really do anything out of the ordinary once they were there either, mostly they bought some snacks and goofed around, much like they did wherever they were. But it was a charming place. Secretly they all liked it, but that was something Jo would never hear them admit. 

Grandma Campbell’s Cupcakes was a little stand up against one of the walls of the building, with absolutely no place to sit down. However, a stand two rows closer to the middle of the place had been shut down (for a _long_ time, according to Jo), and now unofficially functioned as a place for people to sit. Castiel and his friends claimed the single empty table, and pulled up various boxes and objects to sit on, Castiel ending up on a green bucket turned upside-down. 

The cupcakes were sickly sweet and boosted the friends’ blood sugar levels to the point where a man walking by with a beard was enough to set them off laughing till tears were streaming down their cheeks. 

They were having fun. Castiel could even dare to acknowledge the happiness rushing through him at the sight of Meg wiping a smudge of frosting off Kevin’s nose while Benny drew his sticky fingers over Jo’s face, making a mess of her makeup. She pretended to get mad, but no one really bought it. 

Looking back, he would never had thought this would be _him_ sitting with a group of friends, just passing the time. A year ago he was running from sport jerseys, steel knuckles and insults being thrown his way. A year ago his classmates called him an abomination and they had private meetings with the headmaster to ask him to expel Castiel from the school. 

He could never have guessed that this was where he would end up. He locked eyes with Jo for a moment, just deciphering the word “Kinderhook” from the way her lips moved, and he gave her a wide smile. 

Yes. He was okay. He was great. 

 

After spending a few hours at the empty stand two rows from the back at Cleveland’s West Side market, Kevin revealed that he had some studying to do and didn’t really have time to waste his entire Monday night despite them all being good company. Kevin leaving was the starting point of the night’s dispersion, Castiel and Jo being the next to go. They had a lasagna to make and a movie to watch.

It took a total of twenty two minutes for them to bike to Castiel’s home from the market, which included stopping twice to re-tie Jo’s shoelaces, and once to pick up the items they had bought at the market that fell out of Jo’s basket after a particularly high speed bump. 

The house that Castiel shared with his aunt Jody was a simple blue one-story building with what could just pass as a lawn in front and the neighboring house so close that you could see right into their living room. 

West 52 nd street was like stepping into a library. Not even the wind dared to break the silence, and every car passing by might as well have been an earthquake that people desperately tried to hush. The trees lining the street looked strangely naked without the summer leaves to hide behind. 

Bucky reminded them of his existence by barking non-stop until Castiel had located the key (with some help from Jo) and let him go outside while the two friends dropped their bags inside the door. 

Walking around the block with Bucky only took about fifteen minutes, but when they finally escaped the cold both Castiel and Jo were freezing. 

“Come on, I’ll start the lasagna,” Castiel smiled and steered Jo into the kitchen.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, holding up her hands as if to show that she was ready to assist. 

“You can chop up the onion.” He tossed two onions in her general direction, giving her a short applause when she caught both of them. Easily finding her way in the kitchen, Jo pulled out a knife and a cutting board and soon they were working in silence. The usual panic Castiel felt when alone with someone else, the urge to find something to talk about, didn’t exist when he was with Jo. Being with her was like breathing – simple, something he didn’t have to think about. A necessity. 

She never pushed him into doing something just because she wanted to do it (besides choosing which movies to watch, but that didn’t really count). She wanted to be with him because of who _he_ was, because she enjoyed his company, a mutual feeling. 

Their eyes locked occasionally, causing them both to smile. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Castiel said quietly during their tenth smile in a row. Instead of grinning it off like she usually did, Jo actually _blushed_ , looking down at her feet.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, and now it was Castiel’s cheeks turn to transform into a deep red. With his too-long dark hair and blue eyes he wasn’t what he would call good looking. He was definitely not handsome enough to escape the taunts that were constantly directed at him. 

Jo noticed his instant rejection at her statement, and bumped his shoulder softly. 

“I’m serious. Those fucking jocks don’t know shit, you hear me?” 

“Yeah, alright.”

“Really, Cas. You’re worth more than all of those assholes put together.”

“Alright!” he bit off, Jo flinching as he raised his voice. He tried to apologize the instant the word had left his mouth, but she only held her hand up to stop him. 

“I hate watching how you believe what they say. I hate that they’re allowed to call you a failure and get away with it.” 

“I just try to ignore it. You should have seen the kids at my old school.”

“You shouldn’t have to. If I were you, I’d fight back.”

“You do fight back.”

“Not my fucking point, Cas.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, dropping the knife onto the desk. “Promise me that you’ll never let it change you. You don’t have to change anything about yourself.” Castiel didn’t reply to that, but let his head rest on top of hers. His pulse was racing from the intensity of the discussion, but he was determined to not show the effect it had on him. Somewhere at the farthest corner of his brain he could register that maybe, just maybe, what she was saying was true, and that it would be wise to follow her suggestion. 

But he couldn’t do that. Because Michael, Zach and all the other jocks wouldn’t have chosen him as their victim without a reason. Surely, something must be wrong with him. 

They continued to cook in silence, and after a mild burn and an accident with the can opener that resulted in tomato sauce stains on their shirts, they brought the steaming hot lasagna into the living room and made themselves comfortable on the couch. 

Bucky joined them immediately, his unruly tail nearly knocking the plates off the table, so Castiel put him behind the temporary dog-stopping-barrier with an apologetic scratch behind one ear for leaving him there alone. 

“You can come when we’re done eating,” he whispered before returning to the couch. Jo had found the movie on Netflix, and was just loading a plate of lasagna as the opening title began playing. Castiel followed her lead, and soon they were devouring the food and the movie. 

Jo’s phone rang just as Paul Rudd put the ant-suit on for the first time, and she quietly walked off, Castiel hitting the pause-button. He could just make out her words from the kitchen, and tried not to eavesdrop, however it was impossible not to catch on to some parts of the conversation. 

“I TOLD you, I’m at Cas’s. I’ll be fine. Where are you?” 

A short silence followed as the person at the other end answered her, but she quickly sighed in relief.

“Good. Is Sammy alright?” More silence, then, “are you?” Castiel suddenly felt like he shouldn’t be listening to her at all, but just as he rose to let Bucky into the living room, Jo was returning.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and hung up without another word. “Sorry, Dean wondered where I was. Let’s keep watching.” She sat down heavily in the couch, Bucky joining her side at once. She buried her fingers in his fur and hit play, a clear signal to Castiel that she did not want any questions regarding the phone call. 

Respecting her silent wish, Castiel sat beside her and let her lean into his chest, one hand leaving Bucky to grab his shirt instead. Castiel quietly rubbed her shoulder, wishing that she would talk to him, but knowing that he couldn’t force her to. If she wanted to tell him why tears were falling down her cheeks, she would. 

At least that’s what he hoped. 

 

When the movie had reached its end they went to bed, Jo borrowing Jody’s bed. However, sometime in the middle of the night Castiel woke up and could feel that she was watching him in the darkness. 

“Kinderhook?” he said softly, his voice strangely loud in the quiet house. He could make out the sound of her feet as she walked to the bed and crawled into it, and felt her warmth as she nested up against his side. 

For what felt like hours they lay in silence. Castiel had almost gone back to sleep again when she spoke. 

“It changed him,” she said, and Castiel had to shake his head to wake himself up a little. 

“Who?”

“Dean. Being in prison changed him.”

“How’s that?”

“He’s always been a good guy, despite everything he’s done in - shit, right. I forgot that you’ve only been here since august.”

“Seems like longer.”

“Before prison, when he was in the second year and I was in first, he got into a lot of trouble. Detention, hitting other students, hell, he even hit a teacher once. He barely attended any classes and he was actually kind of a dick.”

“Was he ever mean to you?” Castiel mumbled, eyes closed but fully awake now. 

“Never. He loved me, and I adored him. But he wasn’t really someone I could be proud of, you know? He was mean. He was a bully.”

“So what happened to make him change?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that one day he was arrested, and when he came home from prison he wasn’t the same guy that had left us a year earlier. He barely sleeps or eats. He listens to a _lot_ of music. And he’s quiet, he doesn’t make any scenes at school anymore.”

“Isn’t that a good thing though? That he’s stopped bullying?”

“Maybe. But something happened when he was in there, and he refuses to tell me about it. It’s killing me.”

“He will tell you, when he’s ready.” 

She didn’t reply to that. And Castiel stopped talking. 

And eventually, they fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Castiel woke up the following morning she was still lying next to him, curled into a ball with her head on Bucky’s shoulder. The dog gave Castiel a sort of worried look, eyebrows lifted and his entire expression sad.

“It’s alright, boy,” Castiel mumbled, scratching the side of his head. Jo shuffled in her sleep as he spoke, but didn’t wake up until he rubbed her shoulder softly. 

“Good morning,” she croaked, a yawn escaping. 

“Good morning,” Castiel echoed, getting up to avoid the risk of falling back asleep. Jo had no such worries whatsoever, so she only burrowed her head deeper into Bucky’s fur and snoozed off again. 

Castiel altered his morning routine to give Jo a few more minutes of sleep, deciding to shower first, his mind going over their conversation from the night before. So, Dean had changed. Good for him. Castiel didn’t exactly know the past Dean, not that he knew the current Dean either. To him, it sounded as if he had changed for the better.

When he stepped out of the bathroom Jo had managed to rise to a sitting position, and gave him a tired look, blonde hair surrounding her face. 

“Your hair’s going to freeze if you go outside with it like that,” she yawned, Castiel returning to the bathroom to dry his hair off one more time. When he got out he got two thumbs up and a weak smile. 

Jo smoothed her own hair down and pulled it into a bun on top of her head as Castiel got dressed, then dragged on the clothes she had brought the previous day – black torn jeans and a long-sleeved green jumper that hung loosely on her shoulders. 

She looked cozy, ready for a day underneath mountains of blankets with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a book in the other. Not really ready for a day on cold wooden chairs underneath bright white lights and listening to a teacher going on and on about the middle ages. 

Unfortunately, that was what awaited them this November Tuesday. 

They took Bucky for his morning walk, had a quick breakfast then biked to school. The street was icy and crazy slippery, but they were in a bit of a hurry so there was no time to walk. 

By the time they reached the school’s parking lot, the clock outside Stills showed they had two minutes till their first lesson, Castiel urging Jo on as she locked her bike. She ran to catch up with him as he had already begun walking towards the school, but the icy tarmac was too much for her white converse and one step away from Castiel she slipped, falling hard on her back. 

“SHIT,” she exclaimed, grabbing her head with both hands. Castiel watched her wringing on the ground, face cramped up with pain, and he felt the air going out of his lungs. 

People could get seriously hurt from falling and hitting their heads on tarmac. Broken bones was in the top five most common injuries during winter. 

“Are you alright?” Castiel approached her cautiously, kneeling next to her. She was fine enough to be sitting up, and after a few moments of catching her breath she was back on her feet. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

“Jesus, I’m not made of GLASS!” Jo stuck her tongue out at him, but hooked her arm through his nonetheless. “Do you think Mrs. Rowena will let me skip the lesson?” she grinned, and the tension seeped away from Castiel’s body as he laughed with her, knowing that she would have to have a gaping, bleeding wound to be let off history. 

“I can’t believe it’s only fucking Tuesday,” Jo sighed as they headed towards their lockers in Nash. Castiel registered some commotion from the corner of his eye, and scanned the corridors for movement. Five guys, including Dean, were surrounding a freshman that Castiel vaguely recognized. They were obviously not friends with the freshman, a quite robust girl who seemed strangely calm despite being outnumbered. Castiel was just about to address Jo to turn her attention towards the group, but when he glanced at her, her eyes were already glued to her brother. 

“Group pressure,” she muttered, refusing to look away from Dean, who was fidgeting noticeably on the spot.

“What?” Castiel asked, steering them towards the lockers, where Charlie was waiting patiently. 

“He says it’s group pressure,” she shrugged, smile growing as they approached Charlie. 

“You’re here early!” Castiel scoffed as he spotted her, Charlie rolling her eyes at him. 

“I got a ride to school with my dad, I’ve only been here for like, two minutes.”

“Impressive though,” Jo grinned, giving Charlie a hug as a greeting. The two girls chatted while Castiel stuffed his jacket into his locker and rummaged through his notebooks until he found the one for history. They half-ran to the classroom, slipping into the room just as Mrs. Rowena was closing the door.

“Did Charlie distract you two this morning?” Benny said with a grin.

“No, damn it, Cas was the one who refused to wake me up in time,” Jo protested, gaining a few cheers.

“Oh is that how it is?”Meg sighed, taking both Jo’s and Castiel’s hands in hers, Castiel blushing and Jo chuckling. 

“Hey, he made me dinner last night,” she winked, but fell silent as Mrs. Rowena gave them all a pointed look. Sensing Castiel’s discomfort, she squeezed his hand underneath the table and whispered, “Kinderhook?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. The speculations on their relationship shouldn’t have bothered him, because he loved Jo dearly and he knew that she loved him as well. Even though he’d never told her, he was pretty sure Jo knew that he was gay. It wasn’t really something he discussed openly, but he was glad that she knew. Most of all, he was glad that she was okay with it. 

It made it a whole lot easier for her to joke about them being a couple, which Castiel would never really joke about. He knew that them being friends wasn’t just because he wasn’t into girls, it was because they were just…friends. And that was quite alright. 

His thoughts drifted back to Dean. Jo claimed that he genuinely was a good guy, but that his friends were pushing him into doing things he really didn’t want to. If that was the case, Castiel wondered why he would even want to be friends with them. 

 

History went by in the same manner as usual, with Mrs. Rowena going on in detail about the lives of the peasants during the middle ages, and how more than a third of Europe’s population died of the plague. The red-headed woman really loved the sound of her own voice, contrary to the rest of the people in the room. 

One hour of history and two hours of science later, it was time for lunch. Castiel had stayed behind in science, needing to ask Mr. Turner about his homework, meaning that he had to walk to Stills by himself. 

Jo would have waited for him, but he’d sent her off with the rest of their friends, claiming that he didn’t need a full-time body guard.

He tried to tell himself that as he half-ran the hundred meters or so from Nash to Stills, stubbornly pushing away the thoughts of the bruises he had from being pushed down the stairs yesterday. He was still trying to convince himself that he was alright on his own as Michael the Jock, along with three of his thugs, stepped out of the cafeteria doors and approached him. 

“What’s up, Novie-Novak?” Michael leered, Castiel halting abruptly. 

“I’m just going to lunch,” he replied shortly, looking stubbornly at the ground a few meters in front of him. 

“Not chasing after someone, are we?” one of the thugs said in a sing-song voice, bumping into Castiel’s shoulder as he walked by him. 

“We know you’ve got the hots for the Winchester girl. I just hope you know that it’s worthless to even try, I mean, why would she want someone like _you_?” Michael pushed his shoulder back as he tried to get through the little circle they had made around him. He would have been fine, if it wasn’t for the patch of ice just behind him that he stepped on, making him fall backwards and land hard on his butt. 

Pain seared up his spine, but it faded quickly, and Michael and his thugs were already walking away. Apparently they’d had enough for the time being. 

As he sat down next to Benny at their usual lunch table, he knew that Jo could tell that something had happened, but he silently begged her to not bring it up. She nodded at him before returning to the quite loud debate between Meg and Kevin on whether they should spend Friday evening at Benny’s or at the market.

“Shouldn’t you be getting into this discussion as well?” Castiel asked Benny, who sighed despondently. 

“I tried, but a few minutes in I realized that they weren’t even listening to me.”

“It’s better to just let them handle it on their own,” Charlie added with a smile. 

“Will you be joining us, Charlie?” 

“I will, actually. My boss gave me the night off.”

“For real?” Benny looked pretty shocked, and Castiel guessed that his expression mirrored his friend’s. 

“Yes, for real. She told me that I needed to have some fun as well.” The three of them burst out laughing at that, immediately gaining the attention of Kevin, Jo and Meg, who wanted to be let in on the conversation. Explaining it was hopeless in between the laughter, so eventually they gave up and returned to their discussion. 

 

When they had all finished their food, and the discussion had grown more and more intense, Benny stood up and slammed his hand on the table, effectively shutting up the three brawlers. 

“You are all invited to come to my house on Friday. End of discussion.”

“But Benny-“

“End of discussion!” he bellowed, Jo sheepishly squirming in her seat. 

“FINE,” she said.

“Fine,” Benny repeated, bumping his fist against her shoulder playfully, gaining a smile from her. “We’ll go to the market on Thursday.” She practically beamed at him in response.

Kevin interrupted Benny’s moment of authority by leaning forwards with a wicked grin on his face.

“So, what are we doing tonight then?” 

“Don’t know, Kevin what are we doing tonight?” Benny sighed, prepared for the words that were just about to pop out of Kevin’s mouth. 

“Well, you all know about the Observation Deck Tour on the Terminal Tower, right? It’s only open, like, once every two weeks. It just so happens to be open _tonight_.”

“And I’m guessing we’re going?”

“Of course we are! It’s supposed to be amazing!” Benny chuckled at Kevin’s enthusiasm, and nodded in consent. 

“Sounds great, Kevin.” Meg gave him a bump on the shoulder, making him smile with a blush.

“Lunch is over,” Castiel announced after glancing at his watch - for a moment recalling the moments in his past when he would speak and no one would listen – but Benny perked up at his words and clapped his hands together.

“Let’s go.” They stood up in sync and walked over towards the long desk where they could leave their dishes. Castiel was cut off from his friends by two girls who walked strangely closely together, giggling and shuffling forwards. Suddenly the blonde one tripped and fell straight into Benny, pulling the dark-haired one with her. He managed to catch them both by grabbing their arms, and let go once they had regained their balance.

“What are you doing?” Benny chuckled, taking a step back. The girls were crying from laughter by now, and had to take a few moments to answer. 

“It’s an experiment,” blond-girl said at last, wiping tears from underneath her eyes.

“That involves bumping into people?”

“Well…” The other girl pointed at their feet, where Castiel and Benny could see a string tied around their ankles, explaining their lack of balance. 

“What kind of experiment?” Castiel mumbled, still looking at their feet. 

“100 Ways to Make a School Day More Fun.” Benny laughed at that, glancing happily at Castiel. 

“How many have you tried?”

“This is number 24.” 

“Sounds like fun.” 

“Speaking in Spanish was a good one, unfortunately neither of us were very good at it.” They had left the cafeteria, the girls stumbling forwards with arms looped around each other’s shoulders. 

“My favorite was walking backwards all day.”

“The stairs were a bit difficult though,” the dark-haired girl chimed in. Benny observed them both as they made their way to the blonde girl’s locker, which she unlocked smoothly. 

“Well, you two have a fun day!” Benny exclaimed as he and Castiel went to join their friends. 

“You too! And don’t forget to laugh!” Flashing a thumbs up and a huge grin, Benny finally turned his back towards them, Castiel smiling dimly. 

“Nice girls,” he said quietly, Benny flinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“Most people are nice.” 

Castiel considered that. From his experience, people weren’t nice, at least not to him. However coming to Cleveland had begun to change his perception of those his own age, something that proved to be a slow process. One step at a time, apparently. 

The afternoon passed with all the normality they could imagine after the encounter with the two girls who had tied themselves together, however a little more lighthearted than it might have been before lunch. As their last lesson finished, the five friends (Charlie had already run off to work) gathered outside the school to let those with bikes get a chance to unlock them before they began the walk downtown. 

The stale grey concrete buildings that met them on West Roadway hardly seemed inviting, and Meg gave Kevin a doubtful look.

“This is supposed to be amazing?”

“Just wait. I’ve been here before.” Going inside, they were met by a completely different sight. The entrance hall was magnificent, with a tall ceiling and windows that let in thick beams of sunlight into the room. After buying tickets at a reception, they stepped into one of the elevators to get a ride up to the 32 nd floor, where they changed to a different elevator that took them to the observation deck. 

The deck itself was in fact a large room. The first thing Castiel took notice of was the floor, checkered black and white and a sharp contrast to the rest of the building’s concrete and dark wood. A few chairs stood by the windows, which were completely ignored by Meg and Castiel as they all but pressed their noses against the glass panels. 

The setting sun added rivers of red and pink to the spectacular view, a frozen explosion. Every building they could see bathed in the fiery light, changing the city into something beautiful, a moment that seemed all the more unique because of the knowledge that it would pass before long. 

Lake Erie might as well have been a lake of lava. The evening mist was rolling off it, resembling smoke more than the water vapor it really was. 

“Cleveland isn’t that bad, is it?” Jo sidled up to Castiel, speaking quietly into his ear. She leaned her head against his shoulder, being just tall enough to do it comfortably. 

“It’s beautiful,” he replied, rubbing his thumb across her arm. 

“Is that West Side Market?” Meg exclaimed from the other side of the room, pointing vaguely out the window. Benny peeked at the building she was pointing at, frowning slightly. 

“Uh, no, that building’s to the east.”

“But look, it’s really it!”

“It’s probably just similar.”

“Not similar, identical!” Now it was Jo’s turn to step in to see the building that was being discussed, entitling herself as the ‘West Side Market Specialist’. 

“Nope, not the market. It’s way over on the other side, where Castiel is at.” 

“You can’t be serious!” Castiel scanned the buildings that were visible through his window, and soon he recognized the tell-tale tower of the market building. 

“It’s right there,” he said, making Meg, Benny and Jo join his side. 

“See?” Benny tried to reason with Meg, but she was pissed. 

“It looks a lot like the market.” 

“Besides the grey walls and the freeway passing by just next to it.”

“Isn’t there a freeway by the market?”

“NO, Meg. That’s NOT the market,” Jo exclaimed. 

“Fine, I was just wondering. No need to get upset about it.” It took about twenty seconds for Benny, Castiel, Jo and Kevin to register what she had said, but once they did, they burst out laughing, much to the dismay of Meg. 

“What’s so funny? What are you laughing at?” she whined, wanting in on the joke as well. 

“You’re very good at thinking that you are right and everyone else’s is wrong,” Jo provided at last, giving a short pat on her shoulder. 

“No I’m not!” was Meg’s reply, which of course led to more laughter. “You guys are so not funny,” she muttered, attempting to walk to the other side of the room, but she was stopped by Benny who picked her up easily and set her down by the window again. 

“We know, it doesn’t matter,” Benny said happily, gesturing towards the magnificent view. “Just enjoy the sunset with us.” 

They all stood in silence after that, following Benny’s advice. 

“It’s fucking amazing,” Jo said at last, the rest of them nodding in agreement. 

“I told you,” Kevin chuckled, pleased at the amount of praise his activity was receiving. They stayed for a while longer, before going to Kevin’s house for dinner and playing card games for the rest of the night, until Kevin’s parents shooed them out, telling them to go home and get some sleep. 

It was a good day. A good Tuesday. 

 

Wednesdays had become the friends’ studying days, meaning that after school they all went straight to the library to catch up on some homework. The studying days had been imposed by Benny after both Jo and Meg had failed to turn in an essay due to spending too much time at the market. 

They claimed a table in the heart of the library, where they spread out books and pens across it, and the friends bunkered up with snacks and drinks to have the energy to get through all the assignments that needed to be finished. It was yet another brilliant decision of Benny’s, one that was necessary for them to be able to spend their time on nonsense during the rest of the week. All of them except Charlie, of course. 

Castiel was for once ahead of the rest of them, having already finished all of his tasks after one hour. He held an inner debate on whether to stay behind, acting as moral support for the rest of them, or going home to get some well-deserved rest, the latter being the winning outcome. 

He gathered his things and hovered behind Jo for a moment, watching her solve an equation. 

“You’re doing great,” he said quietly, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in triumph and grabbed his hand. 

“I still need you to help me with this fucking algebra.” 

“How about Saturday?”

“Sounds good.”

“Kinderhook.”

“Kinderhook.”

Their eyes locked and for a while they were content with just looking into the other’s eyes, exchanging all the things words could never quite cover, “I love you” being the closest to everything they wanted to say. 

“Good luck with the “fucking” algebra,” Castiel said with a smile.

“Good luck with Bucky,” Jo replied with a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He gave her a quick hug, awkward because he was standing up and she was sitting down, then waved goodbye to the rest of them and left. 

 

Opting to not fall with his bike on the slippery road, Castiel rolled it all the way home and leaned it against the house wall carelessly. Walking was beginning to turn into the more practical form of transport.

After his walk with Bucky, that somehow took one hour, Castiel decided to call his aunt to check in with her and let her know that he was alright. She was glad to hear from him, but he stopped her before she delved into telling him about her trip, telling her to save it until she got back instead. They said their goodbyes, Castiel promising to call the following day at about the same time. 

Some lasagna leftovers became Castiel’s dinner for the night, and after a few episodes of House MD he went to bed early, knowing that Thursdays were the longest and toughest days of the week. He would thank himself for sleeping a full night and not spending the entire evening watching TV. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jo didn’t show the next morning. It wasn’t the first time it happened, so Castiel wasn’t exactly concerned, however he was a bit sad to walk alone to school. All it did was remind him of his time in Tennessee, a time he was desperately trying to blank out. 

It reminded him of his parents, too, which was a bit strange because he hadn’t thought about them at all during the five months that had passed since he had moved to Cleveland with his aunt. The realization struck him harder than he’d thought, and forced him to stop walking for a moment just to catch his breath. 

His _parents_. His mom and dad, somewhere in Tennessee. Thoughts of aunt Jody popped up too, successfully diminishing the other thoughts until he could continue walking. Jody was all he really needed. Jody was his family. 

Being stuck in his own mind, Castiel didn’t pay any attention to the fact that Nash was empty as he entered the building. He spotted Charlie alone by the lockers, and glanced at his wristwatch. It showed 08:01. He was late. 

“Being late is not being on time,” he said to Charlie, who chuckled at him.

“I was just about to leave, but I saw you come in. Apparently there’s some meeting in the cafeteria that we’re supposed to go to.”

“A meeting? Why?” She shrugged.

“No idea, but we’re late. Let’s go!” They set up a good pace on the way to Stills, and sneaked inside, aiming for the table where they could see Benny’s tall head peaking up. Every single table was full, and quite a large number of students were standing up. If Castiel’s estimating skills were correct, the entire school was assembled. That alone was quite an alarming thought, because whatever the meeting was about had to be quite serious if the entire school was there. 

Before they could reach their friends, headmistress Eileen Leahy stepped up on a table, scanning the room while preparing to speak. The alarmingly serious expression she wore was enough for Charlie and Castiel to stop and stand by one of the room’s pillars instead, deciding that it was best not to disturb her. Benny and Meg were visible through the crowd of students, but their backs were facing Charlie and Castiel. They would just have to locate them when the meeting was over. 

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice, and thanks to all the teachers who let me take time from their lessons.”

“This doesn’t bode well,” Charlie whispered into Castiel’s ear. He scoffed in agreement. Mrs. Rowena, who stood behind Mrs. Leahy, was constantly wiping her shirtsleeves underneath her eyes.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. One of our students died yesterday.” A murmur spread through the room, but Mrs. Leahy only had to hold her hand up for it to die out. “The student who died was Joanna Winchester.“

White noise rung through Castiel’s ears. He stared blankly ahead, body frozen stiff and turned to jelly at the same time. A pounding broke through the whistling pipes that was now his mind, a pounding that his subconscious somehow knew was his heart, but he was not able to reflect upon why it was so loud before the floor danced up towards him and he felt a sharp pain in his knees. Strong hands took hold of his arms, keeping the floor away from him, keeping him upright. 

Red hair suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, and he blinked, hard, trying to make sense of the colors that was really a face.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, breathe,” a voice soothed, a voice that belonged to that face. Charlie. Yes, that was Charlie, with red hair and green eyes and wet cheeks. Castiel gasped a breath and swallowed, leaning forward into Charlie’s embrace.

Somewhere, far away, someone was speaking. Saying something important. Something he should know. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie’s soothed, but it was a broken sound. “It’s okay,” she repeated, and now he wasn’t sure who she was saying it to. 

Castiel gasped another breath, and then another, and then he straightened up, giving Charlie a proper hug before getting back to his feet.

He had to get out. He couldn’t be there, not with all the faces looking at him and wondering if he was okay. 

Breaking free of Charlie’s grip, he stormed out of the building and away from the school. 

Past the patches of ice on tarmac. 

Past the frost-covered green bike, abandoned in the middle of the parking lot. 

Past the frozen grass field.

Crossing the road, then following it towards the south part of the city. Towards that house that he’d been outside so many times but never entered, the white one-story building with a crack in one of the windows and an unkempt lawn.

His feet steered him towards that house, unfamiliar but yet one he recognized. Without knowing why, he stepped up to the front door and knocked on the cold wood. 

No answer.

He knocked again. 

The sound of feet echoed through the house, bare feet against hard floor. The door was unlocked, and Castiel took a quick step back to avoid getting hit by it as it was opened.

“Cas,” Dean said as he opened the door. He looked tired. In fact, he looked exhausted. Bruises littered the left side of his face, his left eye swollen but still open. A bag of frozen peas rested in his right hand, and his left hand was pressed against his lower ribs. 

“You know my name.” It was all Castiel could really say at the moment, but at least it earned him a quiet chuckle from Dean. 

“Yeah, Jo never shut up about you. Come on inside.” He opened the door wider, and after a moment of hesitation Castiel stepped through it. 

The house was cold. Really cold, like they had left all the windows open during the night. Dean was wearing a thick sweater, but he was barefoot, and his fingertips were slightly blue. A pair of thick wool socks lay on a chair in the hall, that Dean snatched and put on in one swift movement. Bending down caused him to stifle a groan that Castiel pretended not to hear. 

“Keep your shoes on, the floor’s real cold,” Dean said shortly through gritted teeth, leading the way into the surprisingly large kitchen where he motioned at Castiel to sit by the kitchen island. He moved slowly and cautiously, like an old man afraid to break his bones. Castiel wondered what he would answer if he were to ask why. 

After filling a cup of coffee and placing it in front of Castiel, Dean filled one for himself and sat opposite him. He pressed the bag of peas back on his face and let the silence play on, looking as if he was about to fall asleep any second. Castiel suddenly realized how rude it had been of him to barge in at such an early hour, but his every attempt at forming an apology failed. 

“Is it true?” he asked at last, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. 

“Yes,” he replied. Cas shook his head.

“No, man, no. She’s eighteen. This has got to be some kind of joke-“ Dean leaned forwards and grabbed his forearm, the first part of him that he could reach, and drilled his eyes into Cas’s. The bag of peas were tossed to the side, forgotten. 

“It’s not a joke, it’s not someone fooling around. She’s dead. Gone. Murdered. She’s not coming back.” Cas leaned forwards as Dean’s words entered his brain.

Dead.

Gone.

_Murdered._

He clutched at his chest, frantically wondering why there was a sudden burning sensation in his lungs, and barely noticed how Dean walked around the table and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. When Cas didn’t object to the touch, Dean grabbed both of his arms and pulled them up above his head, holding them softly but firmly in place. 

“Just breathe,” he soothed, and Cas closed his eyes trying to do just that, trying to pull air into his lungs. 

“She’s eighteen,” Cas repeated in a whisper.

“I know. I know, Cas. I wish I could tell you something different, but this is the truth: she’s dead.”

“I have to go back to school. To Charlie, I just left.” Dean let go of his arms now that he had regained some control of his body, and gave him a worried look.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright going there by yourself? I can’t go with you, I have to stay with Sammy.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas mumbled, already on his feet. Dean stopped him before he reached the door.

“Have you called you aunt?” he asked, blocking the door with his body.

“No, but I’m fine, really.”

“The hell you are. Take out your phone.” Cas reluctantly unlocked his phone and scrolled through the contacts list until he found the one named ‘Jody’. She was so close, just a few dialing tones away, but Cas couldn’t bring himself to press the little phone symbol beside her cell number. What would he possible say?

Dean, who had watched Cas’s inner monologue in silence, gently took the phone, pressed the ‘call’ symbol and held it against his own ear. Cas watched him in a trance-like state, unable, and unwilling, to stop him.

“Hi, Mrs. Mills? You need to come home to your nephew- No, he’s alright, he’s not hurt. His friend Joanna, Jo, she-“ Dean had to pause for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “Jo was murdered yesterday.” Some silence followed, Cas staring blankly ahead. She couldn’t be dead. Not _Jo_. “As I said, Cas is unharmed, but I don’t think he should be alone right now. He needs someone to be with him. Yes.” He paused, listening to Jody intently. “No, he can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll let him know, thank you. Goodbye.”

Dean handed the phone back to Cas, and stepped away from the door. 

“Your aunt Jody’s getting on the next plane, she’ll be home by lunch. I suggest you go back to your friends at school.” Cas nodded mutely, gripping the door handle tight. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. Dean smiled appreciatively. 

“Yeah, me too.” They stood in silence for a minute or two before Cas broke it off, telling Dean goodbye and returning to the cold outside. Despite being freezing, the Winchester’s house had at least been warmer than the outside. 

 

All the students had been asked to join their form teachers for a session before returning to the day’s scheduled lessons. Cas, Charlie, Benny, Kevin and Meg were all in the same class: 12A. Jo’s class. 

A deep silence filled room N23 as Mrs. Johnson spoke with Mrs. Leahy just outside the door. Only the occasional sniffle broke the quiet. No one dared to speak. 

Mrs. Johnson returned with a grave expression and a piece of paper in hand, slowly sitting on top of the desk at the front of the classroom. She brought a hand through her hair, sighing deeply, seemingly on the verge of breaking into tears. 

“I’ve got a police report here,” she stated, lifting the paper slightly to show what she was indicating. “It says that Joanna Winchester was brought to the hospital last night at 11pm, after they received a 911 call from her brother. She had been shot twice at a close range, during what appears to have been an attempted robbery. At 01:32am she died from her injuries.” 

Mrs. Johnson took a few moments to let the words sink in, before adding, “does anyone have any questions?”

Meg slowly raised her hand and was called on. “Have they caught the one who did it?” 

“No, not yet.” 

A few more hands were raised, slowly, one centimeter at a time. 

“Are her brothers alright?”

“Where did it happen?”

“Why was she in town in the middle of the night?”

Mrs. Johnson patiently answered the questions so far as she was able, and when the 20-minute session was over she urged them to contact her if they had any more questions, or just wanted to talk. Before sending the class away, she asked Cas and his friends to stay behind for obvious reasons. 

“I know you five were her closest friends, especially you, Cas.” Charlie put a hand on Cas’s back. It didn’t feel as supportive as he knew she intended it to. “If you need someone to talk to, my phone number is on the website, and feel free to come by my office at any time. I understand if you want to take the day off, or maybe a few days, but remember that it’s important to keep up with your daily routines. Allow yourselves to grieve, but also to move on.” 

They left shortly after that. Benny lead them all towards their lockers, one arm around Charlie’s shoulders to keep her sobbing at bay. Once they reached the lockers, just the sight of Jo’s was enough to set them all off crying, and one after one they slipped down to the floor, hunched together, tears falling in silence. 

Cas stayed on his feet. He hadn’t shed a single tear yet. Somehow the fact that Jo was _gone_ was just so ridiculous that he really only felt like laughing, but he had enough manners to know that even cracking a smile was quite inappropriate at the moment. 

Jo was dead. Lying in a morgue somewhere, two holes ripped through her body.

Dead. 

Gone.

Murdered.

No more pouring orange juice into an old plastic bottle for him.

No more high-pitched laughter as Bucky knocked her over in the mornings. 

No more holding his hand underneath the desk. 

No more Jo. 

_Kinderhook?_

Not really. 

 

Cas couldn’t be with his friends. Their grief smothered him, made him want to cover his ears with his hands, close his eyes and scream until his vocal cords burst. 

Not knowing where he wanted to go, but definitely not wanting to go home, Cas found himself walking towards the market. He didn’t know what he had expected to find there, but learning that it was up and running like always made him furious for some reason. How could the world just keep on acting like nothing had changed when _everything_ had changed? 

The fish-stand guy still had his Yankees cap on backwards, chopping off fish heads and wrapping filets into parchment paper. 

The grey-haired floral-lady still wore her floral-apron and her green crocs, spraying water on the flowers, delaying their aging for a few more hours. 

Grandma Campbell’s Cupcakes was out of chocolate-fudge cupcakes, so Cas settled for one with regular chocolate. It was a bit dry and didn’t have the same thick chocolate taste, but it was alright. 

The empty stand two rows from the wall was unusually empty. Cas sat by one of the tables, nibbling on the cupcake without really wanting to eat it. 

The market was noisy, despite the early hour, but the smells that reached Cas were not of fish or half-rotting meat, but of flowers and cupcakes just coming out of the oven. The sounds that echoed through the hall were not angry shouts and screams, but friendly words and Jo’s laughter. 

The market had been her favorite place to be, and therefore it was Cas’s favorite place to be as well. 

He glanced at his silver wristwatch, noting the time. 11:42am. Almost twelve hours without Jo’s swearing and shouting and punching his shoulder. 

How was he supposed to get through the next twelve hours, twelve days, twelve weeks?

Twelve years?

 

The day went on in a blur. Cas returned home just as Jody arrived with a taxi, her only greeting a long hug in the middle of the sidewalk, the wind soft against their cheeks. The street was as quiet as usual. Nothing she said could make him feel better, and she was aware of that. 

The gloomy Thursday passed. Cas slept for a few hours on the couch, TV turned onto some late night talk show with celebrities he had never heard of.

Friday passed as well. Jody didn’t even ask if he wanted to go to school.

The weekend was spent with Netflix and re-watching some of Jo’s favorite movies and TV-shows. 

He could tell that Jody wanted to ask him if maybe it was time for him to go back to school on Monday, but apparently she didn’t really have it in her. However she did have to go to work, making him promise her to call him if he needed anything. 

Having shut himself into their house for four days had made Cas restless, so he decided to take Bucky out for a walk by the time lunch rolled around and his stomach reminded him of the breakfast he hadn’t eaten. 

And Bucky, sensing his owner’s distress, trotted on quietly, stopping every now and then as if to make sure Cas was still with him. 

Once again Cas had subconsciously chosen the way to the market, where he attached the leash to Bucky’s collar and went inside. Bucky’s nose immediately connected with the floor, following some invisible scent. He let the dog lead the way, absently scanning the stands for something that could hold his interest. Not even Grandma Campbell’s Cupcakes sparked his will to buy something for himself. 

Finding an empty seat at the empty stand proved difficult, but Cas was perfectly content with just sitting on the old counter, Bucky laying faithfully by his feet. 

He felt numb, but at the same time as if he was an exposed nerve, about to explode. The amount of feelings that washed over him were so overwhelming that he didn’t know what to do with himself, except hugging his arms across his chest and hope that the sensation would pass. Bucky whined at his distress, and stood on his hind legs to reach him and offer some sort of comfort. His thick fur was perfect for Cas to just bury his face in, take in the familiar smell and let the softness surround him. 

It took a few minutes, but it helped. 

“Thanks, Buck,” Cas said quietly, petting him affectionately. 

“That’s a nice dog,” a voice called, and as Cas looked up he spotted Dean approaching him. “What’s his name?” he continued, either not noticing or ignoring the way Cas froze up, forgetting every concept of social interaction. With a smile Dean repeated his question, “the dog, what’s his name?”

“Uh, Bucky,” Cas mumbled. 

“Like in _Captain America_ ,” Dean smiled dimly in response, bending down to greet Bucky, who was overjoyed at the attention.

“Sorry?”

“The Marvel-movie? Steve Rogers’ best friend?” Cas gained a bewildered look, enticing another smile from Dean. “It’s alright, you’ve still got an entire life ahead of you, loads of time to watch Marvel.” Dean gracefully jumped up onto the quite small counter, sitting so close that his left leg was brushing up against Cas’s right. 

They were silent for a while, treading around the subject they would have to discuss sooner or later. Jo was, after all, all they had in common. 

Cas was the first to speak.

“Have the police caught the one who did it yet?” He wouldn’t have paid any attention to how Dean stiffened if he hadn’t glanced at him the same moment it happened. But the guy’s jaw clenched and his biceps twitched underneath the dark red shirt. 

“No. And they probably won’t.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“It’s complicated,” Dean said through gritted teeth, making Cas bite his tongue before continuing to question him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked instead. The bruises on his face had gone down slightly, but looked just as painful in their current yellow shade. Dean smiled, a sad smile, and shook his head.

“Not really. I’m just waiting for it all to burst, you know? Like, right now I feel fine, which is ridiculous, but I’ve been really busy looking after Sammy, so I haven’t really had any time to stop and look after myself. I’m counting on going crazy at the end of the week.”

“I haven’t cried. Not a single tear. When my cat died I cried for three days straight.” Dean laughed a shallow laugh at that, probably because of how absurd it was relative to their current situation.

“I haven’t either, if that makes you feel any better.”

“How is your brother doing?” Dean sighed at that and leaned forwards, resting his chin on clenched fists. 

“He’s doing okay. I mean, considering. They were really close, you know, so he hasn’t really had the energy to do anything except crying. I sent him off to school today, he needed a break from me.”

“What about your parents?” It dawned on Cas how little he knew about the Winchester family as he saw Dean’s reaction to those four words. He tensed up, his whole back going stiff, and his eyes grew hard and cold. 

“That’s none of your business,” he replied shortly, clearly marking the end of that discussion. As Cas didn’t really know how to continue, they sat in silence, waiting for the tension to leave Dean’s body. 

It proved to be quite a time-consuming exercise.

Cas’s thoughts wandered off in the meantime, quite focused on the subject of Dean Winchester. He couldn’t believe that they were sitting next to each other, close because of the limited space on the counter. So close that he could actually feel heat radiate from Dean’s body, and they were having a conversation (no matter how unsuccessful it might be). The entire situation was surreal. But then, of course, nothing was the way it used to be at the moment. Jo was _gone_. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said at last, sheepishly bringing his hand to the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Cas nodded, accepting the apology, and tried not to dwell on the fact that Dean still left the question unanswered. 

After all, it wasn’t his business, as Dean so obviously had stated. He aimed for what he hoped was a safer conversation starter.

“Do you have any plans for today?” 

“Nope. I promised Sammy I’d pick him up at school by lunch, but that’s like two hours from now.” 

Cas swallowed hard. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to ask if Dean wanted to do something with him. It was all too weird. Dean was a replica of the guys in Tennessee that had made Cas’s life a living hell, handsome, popular and with a thick coating of the “I-don’t-care-if-I-hurt-you”-attitude.

Not someone who would want to do something with someone like Cas.

“You want to do something?” Dean said suddenly, and again his hand sneaked up to the back of his neck, resting there. Cas’s entire body screamed at him that this was wrong, that Dean wasn’t someone he should be socializing with. 

He was someone that he should be staying away from. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand. We don’t even know each other-“ He was rambling, Cas realized. Dean Winchester, unsure of himself. 

Cas managed to think the word “adorable” before chastising himself for even applying such a word to the guy next to him. The guy who didn’t know that Cas was gay. 

The guy who should have been throwing mean words in his face, punching him and pushing him into lockers. 

“-and I’m sure you have better things to do, like, I don’t know, do some homework or something-“

“Dean.” The rambling stopped, Dean blushing deeply and refusing to look up. 

_Adorable._

“I’d like to help you waste two hours before you have to pick up Sammy.” Dean perked up at that, flashing a wide smile.

“For real?”

“Yes.” 

“Awesome! So what do you want to do?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Bucky could use a walk, I guess? Or, I mean-“

“A walk it is,” Dean interrupted before Cas fell into a ramble of his own. Neither of the two moved. 

“Should we go?” Cas scowled, Dean chuckling in response.

“Let’s go.” They descended from the counter simultaneously, Cas making a wobbly landing and having to steady himself by grabbing Dean’s arm. Dean laughed a little at the red tone Cas’s cheeks gained, but didn’t comment on it. 

Leaving the market proved quite difficult, seeing as it had filled up with customers while they had been in the empty stand. Bucky led the way through the crowd, and after bumping into three women, almost making an old man fall over, and stepping on a woman’s toes Cas finally felt the cold air on his skin once again. Dean came stumbling after him, laughing hard.

“Oh, man, you almost killed that old guy in there!” 

“I didn’t see him,” Cas objected, only serving to increase Dean’s laughter.

“You just made my day. Oh my _god_ ,” he grinned, shaking his head. Cas felt a sudden flare of anger towards him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, the guy had tripped on Cas’s feet as he took a step forwards, but Cas had been able to catch him before he hit the ground. That wasn’t something to laugh about. And, Cas realized, it wasn’t something Dean was supposed to laugh about – it was something Jo would have, _should have_ , done. Not Dean. 

Swallowing his anger, Cas steered his feet to the north. If Dean didn’t catch up with him, he told himself that he wouldn’t care. It would probably be for the best. 

However, Dean did follow him, and in a split second he was by Cas’s side, quietly walking in the pace he had set up. 

Feeling the anger drain from him, Cas knew that Dean was waiting for him to talk, to show that he was open for a conversation. Being angry at Dean for no real reason was pointless, so Cas sighed and turned his head slightly towards him. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he said quietly, pulling on Bucky’s leash a little as the dog noticed a cat a few meters ahead. 

“I know,” Dean replied, and that was it. No weird feeling between them, no trying to make it up to each other. Instead, they kept on walking. 

“What kind of music do you like?” Dean asked, smiling at the cat that quickly escaped behind an iron fence as Bucky approached it. 

”Eh, what?”

”Just making small talk!” Dean said with a laugh, and Cas considered the question, tilting his head ever so slightly as he did. 

“I don’t know, I don’t really listen to a lot of music. Probably whatever’s on the radio.” 

“For real?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Wow. I mean, too bad for you. Luckily, I happen to be an expert.”

“An expert on…?”

“Music. There’s got to be something out there you like. Me, I prefer the classics. Deep Purple, The Beatles, Guns N’ Roses.” When Cas didn’t reply, Dean continued. “But also other stuff. Red Hot Chili Peppers-“

“Now you’re just messing with me. Is there an actual band called that?” Dean laughed a full-body laugh, clasping a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“There is an actual band called Red Hot Chili Peppers, yes. And they’re great.”

“I guess I could look it up.”

“You should. You are aware of the fact that you live in Cleveland, right?”

“What’s that got to do with music?” Cas kept walking for a few steps until he realized that Dean had stopped, so he turned his head questioningly towards him. 

“Tell me you did not just ask me that.”

“What’s so special about Cleveland?”

“Cas,” he sighed dramatically, looking up towards the sky as if searching for help. “Ever heard of Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

Cas had, in fact, heard of the Hall of Fame, but he still didn’t understand what it had to do with Cleveland.

Dean added, “the Hall of Fame museum is located in Cleveland.”

“Oh.”

_Oh_.

“Well, then it makes sense,” Cas mumbled, tilting his head again.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Where is it?” With a lopsided grin Dean pointed straight ahead, towards the lake. 

“By the water. We could go there sometime.” A sudden blush crept over Dean’s cheeks, and he turned his gaze towards the ground, once again rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to-“

“That would be nice,” Cas interrupted, sensing Dean’s discomfort. The hand-on-the-neck and blushing was quickly becoming one of Cas’s favorite things. 

Reaching the river, Cas suggested that they sit for a while, which Dean agreed to immediately. They found an empty bench overlooking the Columbus Road bridge, where they sat in silence. Cas unclipped the leash from Bucky’s collar, and let him roam around the area a little before he ended up sitting patiently by their feet.

“So,” Dean began, his voice fading away.

“Yeah,” Cas replied. He was staring blankly ahead, the realization of Jo being dead hitting him again. Dean broke his thoughts with a disturbing confession:

“I’m really sorry for making you hang out with me.”

“Dean-“

“Please. Just let me get this out. Jo would never stop talking about you. Seriously, never. It was always “Cas this” and “Cas that” at home, and at first I hated it, I really hated it, because some guy I didn’t know was becoming my sister’s best friend and I always thought that that would be me.  
But then, after a few weeks, I realized how happy she was, you know? She would come home with this brilliant smile on her face, telling me how you made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe, and that was it. I listened to what she told me about you, really listened, and somehow it was like I was getting to know you too. I feel like I know you, but I get it now, I get that I can’t just fill up for Jo.”

“No one can,” Cas declared, which apparently hit a nerve in Dean’s currently unstable mind, making his face transform into a mask of pain before he buried it in his hands, leaning forwards on his knees. He let out a moan that lodged itself in Cas’s chest, his heartbeat growing erratic. 

What was he supposed to do?

What could he do?

He attentively placed a hand on Dean’s back, bringing it up and down in a few short strokes. He could physically feel some of the tension leave the impressive muscles adjacent to his spine, but it wasn’t enough. An idea formed in Cas’s brain, and he shuffled a little on the bench while signaling Bucky to sit closer to Dean. 

“Reach your hands in front of you, you don’t have to look up unless you want to,” Cas mumbled, making sure Bucky was right in front of Dean. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, Dean slowly moved his hands forwards, flinching almost violently when they came in contact with Bucky’s fur. Hesitantly, Dean stroke the fur on Bucky’s left shoulder, then on his back, around his neck, and then his hands were completely buried in the soft shagginess. 

Secretly proud of himself, Cas watched as Dean wound down, and turned his gaze away as he straightened up. His cheeks were dry, and he looked calm. With a deep breath and a rocky smile Dean gave Bucky one last affectionate pat before leaning against the back of the bench.

“I really need to get a dog.” 

“Bucky’s always free if you need him. Just don’t disturb his afternoon nap, he can get a little grumpy if you do.” The deadpan voice that Cas delivered the joke with was enough to set Dean off laughing again.

“You really are something,” he grinned at last, eyes crinkled up at the corners and white teeth flashing. 

 

Since Dean had to pick up Sam, and Cas couldn’t use Bucky as an excuse to be outside anymore, they left the bench, splitting up by West 44 th street. Dean had, after a lot of blushing, asked for Cas’s phone number, which he had received in a flash, along with a promise to call him the next day. 

It was only when Cas had come home that he realized that he hadn’t gotten Dean’s number in return. 

Now he could only hope that he really would call him. 

The house was empty upon their return, and despite it only being a little past noon Cas went straight to his bed after pulling down the curtains and pouring up some food for Bucky. He lay with his head buried underneath the pillow until he felt a rough tongue licking the hand that was hanging off the side of the bed, and because he couldn’t refuse the warmth of the dog he let him get in the bed and lie beside him contentedly. Cas wasn’t really one to complain. 

After absently playing with soft fur for a while, Cas pulled out his phone and located the Youtube-app. Finding a set of unused headphones in his bedside drawer, where he still kept the box that his phone had arrived in, he plugged them in and put them in his ears uncertainly. 

Red Hot Chili Peppers wasn’t really a name Cas could forget, and after listening to “Californication” a total of four times he switched to the next song on the list. He was still listening to music when Jody knocked on his door, stepping in after not receiving any kind of response after a few moments. 

Cas looked up quickly, pulling the earphones out. “Aunt J,” he greeted, pressing the screen to pause the music.

“What’s that you’re listening to?” she replied, leaning against the door frame. 

“Music.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out by myself. What music?”

“Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

“Is that so? I used to listen to them, back when I was young. “Snow” was my favorite, if I remember correctly.” 

“I haven’t heard that one yet.”

“Add it to your playlist. Now, come on, will you help me with dinner or what?” Cas followed his aunt to the kitchen, where they began cooking without really having to discuss what each one would do. 

Eating in front of the TV – after putting Bucky behind the temporary-dog-stopping-barrier, of course – was a familiar, comforting thing that Cas hadn’t really known that he had missed. 

They talked for a while, Jody telling him about her day and Cas revealing that he had met Jo’s brother, the same one who had called her that Thursday, telling her to come home to her broken down nephew. She went to bed shortly after that, having an early shift at the hospital the following day. 

While Jody gave him a quick goodnight hug, Cas wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice not strong enough to do more than that. “For everything.” 

In that moment, he was incredibly grateful that it was Jody he was hugging, Jody who had cooked dinner with him, Jody that was going to wake him up in the morning. 

“Love you,” he called as she had walked across the living room and let Bucky pass the barrier, immediately snuggling up next to Cas.

“I love you too, my dear,” she replied, a fond smile playing on her lips. 

For the first time in four days he slept a full night, hand resting on Bucky’s neck until he woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yay! Leave me a comment and tell me what you think of it xx

Dean didn’t call, but at 1pm Cas’s phone signaled that he had received a text message. Frowning slightly, Cas opened it and had to read it five times before he could figure out who had sent it.

_Entire afternoon free, want to waste some hours?_

Only then did a second, more helpful text arrive:

_This is Dean, BTW._

Then another:

_Probably should have led with that._

Cas huffed as he read the texts, and formed a reply:

**Sounds good. U want to come over?**

**This is Cas, FYI.**

_Was beginning to wonder if I got the right number… Can I come now?_

**1839 W 52** ** nd ** **St.**

**Bring ice cream.**

_On my way._

Cas wandered aimlessly around the house, picking up a few books that he set back in place in the bookshelf, and tossed two shirts and a pair of socks that somehow had ended up underneath the kitchen table into the laundry bag. He was in the middle of filling the washing machine up when a knock on the door interrupted him and without spending one second to consider what he was wearing he opened it up. 

Dean greeted him with laughter, throwing his entire body back doing so.

“Those SOCKS!” he exclaimed at last, and Cas understood the reason for Dean’s reaction. He blushed a little and tried to hide his feet by curling his toes, which only increased Dean’s laughter.

They weren’t that bad, not really. It had been Jody’s Christmas gift to him, five pairs of ridiculous finger socks, each pair a poignant neon color. The pair he was currently wearing happened to be bright pink. 

“I guess they’re a bit odd,” Cas mumbled, Dean shaking his head and closing the door behind him.

“They’re amazing. Absolutely amazing.” There was something in Dean’s eyes that Cas hadn’t noticed before, like a smile hidden behind his eyelashes. Cas quickly decided that he liked it, and tore his gaze off the alluring eyes before his staring became close to illegal. 

“I got some B&J’s, hope that’ll do,” Dean smiled lopsidedly and held up a see-through plastic bag containing two blue containers, Cas at once recognizing the flavors.

“What-a-lotta Chocolate’s my favorite,” he groaned in content, reaching for the ice cream. Dean laughed at him while wriggling his way out of his jacket, his shoes already piled up on top of Cas’s. 

“I’ll get some spoons,” Cas said quickly, disappearing into the house. Dean followed him in a slower pace, taking his time to check out the house, reaching the kitchen with a whistle.

“You’ve got a nice house.”

“It’s my aunt Jody’s.”

“You live here too, right?”

“Yes?”

“So you’ve got a nice house,” Dean repeated, not taking any notice of Cas’s frown. He stepped into the living room, chuckling at the temporary-dog-stopping-barrier, and sat on the couch next to Bucky, who had barely lifted an ear at his arrival. 

Cas joined him seconds later, handing one spoon to his guest and getting an ice cream as repayment. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Cas asked, suddenly unsure of himself. It had been a long time since he spent time alone with anyone besides his aunt and Jo. 

“Sure. What’s your favorite?” Cas considered that, and replied,

“I’d say _The Imitation Game_.” 

“That’s actually quite a good answer, I’m impressed. Mine’s The Lord of The Rings.”

“Haven’t seen them.” Dean’s eyes seemed dangerously close to popping out of his skull. He swallowed his ice cream hard, and blinked, scratching the side of his head. 

“You need some serious education, my friend. Do you have Netflix?”

Cas had frozen still, unable to decipher what Dean had said after the words ‘my friend’. 

Were they friends? Did Dean really want to be friends with him?

“Yo, space to earth, do you copy? Do you have Netflix?” Dean was waving his hand in front of Cas’s face, and Cas followed it with his eyes. There was some sort of a deformity right in the middle of it, like a scar, but before he could examine it further Dean had pulled his hand down, an amused look on his face. 

“Yes!” Cas blurted out, locating the remote to the apple TV and handing it to Dean, who easily started Netflix and began playing the movie he had mentioned. Cas registered something about a ring and evil spreading across the world, but his mind was really focused on Dean. 

Had he just said the words as a passing phrase? It was probably not something Cas should be fretting about, but he couldn’t stop. 

“Are we friends?” he asked at last, Dean smiling widely. 

“Of course. I don’t share my ice cream with just about anyone.” 

“Seriously, though. You wouldn’t want to be seen with me at school, people would think-”

“Seriously, I don’t give a fuck about what people think.”

“But-“

“I don’t. I want to be your friend, if you’ll let me.”

“I-“

“Just say yes, Cas.”

“Yes.” Again, that lopsided grin appeared, his lips turning up at the corners and his eyes crinkling slightly. 

They resumed to watching the movie, Cas quickly finding himself hooked. Dean’s occasional comments were so different from watching a movie in silence with Jo beside him, who had never said a single word from start to finish. Dean, on the other hand, winced when Frodo was stabbed, laughed at Merry and Pippin, and spoiled any excitement for Cas by going “wait for it, here it comes, YEAH” every time an orc was about to get his head chopped off. 

But Cas didn’t mind. Not one bit.

Especially not when the ending titles rolled on the screen and Dean had sprawled out across the couch, petting and stroking Bucky throughout the entire movie. 

“So, what do you think?” he asked at last, casting a smile in Cas’s direction. 

“It was good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Really good.” 

“Glad you liked it! We probably shouldn’t watch the second one now, each one’s like three hours long.”

“Maybe some other time.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean beamed, his smile closely resembling Jo’s. He was silent for a few minutes after that, absently running his hands through Bucky’s fur. Cas waited for him to speak, knowing by his expression alone that he was gathering the courage to say something. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure,” Cas replied, but Dean shook his head. 

“It’s kind of personal, and I really don’t want to pry, but I…I guess I’m just curious.” 

“Quid pro quo?” 

“Squid what?”

“Quid pro quo,” Cas repeated, slower the second time. “It basically means I’ll do something for you if you do something for me.”

“Oh, so you’ll answer a question and then I’ll answer a question? I like that. Quid pro…coal.”

“Quo.”

“That’s what I said. Maybe we should set up some rules though, you know, so we don’t become enemies on our first day of being friends.”

“How about this: you have to either answer a question truthfully, or pass it. And no remarks if a question is being passed.”

“And no questions are too weird. You can ask anything you want, everything’s allowed.”

“Alright.” Cas held out his hand, Dean shaking it with a grin. 

“Can I go first?”

“Shoot.” Dean hesitated then, suddenly extremely uncertain. He seemed to hold an inner debate, and nodded quickly after a few moments. 

“Okay. Were you and Jo together? Like, together-together?”

“Like was I her boyfriend?” Dean nodded eagerly, Cas already feeling as if he had made a mistake by agreeing to answer any question. But he could do it. He could do it for Dean, kind, smiling Dean who had just spent three hours sharing a couch with him and Bucky. 

“No, we were not together-together. We were just friends.”

“For real?”

“We said no lying, right?”

“Right, right, I’m sorry. You two just seemed too close to be “just friends” is all.” Cas knew that Dean would believe him in an instant if he told him that he was gay. But he couldn’t. It was too soon.

“Your turn,” Dean reminded him, and Cas snapped out of his thoughts to come up with a question, ultimately continuing on the same subject. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope. Do you?”

“No, I’m single.” Cas’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest as he asked his next question. “Do you have a boyfriend?” 

“No,” Dean smiled. Cas wondered what more lay behind that single word. 

“Why do you live with your aunt?”

“She took me in when my parents weren’t acting very parent-like. Have you lived in Cleveland your entire life?”

“Born in Kansas, moved here just after Sammy was born. What did your parents do?”

Cas bit the inside of his cheek, considering using a “free-pass”-card to avoid answering. He realized, with a beat, that if he wanted Dean to trust him he would have to trust Dean as well. 

“I was bullied at my old school, both mentally and physically, but my parents weren’t interested in pulling me out of the school or trying to make things better.” Dean seemed taken aback by this information, so Cas gave him a few moments before asking a new question. They had headed into dangerous topics quite quickly. “Did your parents get a divorce, or why did you move?”

“I don’t know, really, something with mom’s work I think. Or maybe not, now that I really think about it. I don’t know.”

“What does she work with?” Cas blurted, knowing that he was asking two questions in a row but Dean didn’t seem to notice. 

“She died when I was fourteen.” That was something Cas did _not_ know, and suddenly he was unsure of what to say. _I’m sorry? I hope she’s in a better place?_ Nothing would really cover it. 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. Why were you bullied?” There it was. The opening, the way to telling Dean his secret. The secret that only Jody knew about now that Jo was gone. 

He forced himself to say it, forced himself to say the words, “the school was quite a conservative Christian high school, and I’m gay. Didn’t work out that well with neither the teachers or the students.” He took a deep breath, and dared shoot a glance in Dean’s direction, astonished to find that he didn’t look disgusted, or angry, or even confused. He just looked a little surprised, but smiled when he noticed that he was being observed. 

“Jackasses.” 

Like it wasn’t a big deal. Cas was gay, so what? Dean was okay with it. He hadn’t even shrugged away from him. 

Memories flashed by, of Dean’s leg brushing up against his, his warmth reaching Cas’s body, holding his hand against his back. And somehow, out of the blue, Cas got the courage to ask his next question. 

“But you’re not, you know…?”

“Gay? Wow, way to ask a guy about his sexual orientation. I’m bisexual, actually.”

“What’s a bisexual?” Cas asked obliviously, his head tilting unconsciously. 

“You know, if you’re heterosexual you like girls. If you’re homosexual, you like boys. Bisexual you like both.”

“Huh.” 

“I’m going to let that second question be included in the first one,” he winked, and it took Cas a few moments to understand what he meant. By then Dean was already forming a new question. “What are they like? Your parents?”

“Religious, I guess. Not very pleased when they found their youngest making out with the neighbor’s son in their treehouse.”

“Ouch.”

“I was grounded for eternity. They called me an abomination, a sinner, not someone who deserved to be their son. My dad called my form teacher and just _told him_ , and the next day the entire school knew. The Christian Baseball Team on the school decided to try to “heal” me after that.” Cas hadn’t even realized that he was shaking until arms were wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. 

“There is nothing wrong with you, do you hear me? Your fucking parents are the ones who don’t deserve someone as amazing as you.” If there was anything that would set Cas off crying, that was it. Silent tears began rolling down his cheeks, Dean not noticing until he could feel the dampness on his shirtsleeves. 

“Hey, what happened?” he soothed, raising his hands to hold Cas’s head, forcing him to meet his gaze. 

“I’m just so tired of it all. Of feeling like this.” Dean smiled sadly at his words, pulling him into another hug.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, and Cas was beginning to believe that maybe it was. Or at least that it could be, someday. 

 

“I have another question for you, if you’re up for it.” Dean had let go of Cas once his breathing had returned to normal, and Cas would be lying if he said that he didn’t yearn for the contact again. 

But he was Cas. And Dean was Dean. Nothing was really going to change that.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask?” Dean considered that for a moment, and when he realized that Cas was right he pouted a little, but yielded. 

“Alright, ask away.”

There were a million questions that Cas still wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure which ones would be too intimate. However, there was one that he couldn’t avoid any longer. 

“Were you really in prison?” Dean seemed to take a beat at the question, a look that wasn’t really panic but not really calm either spreading on his face. 

“How did you-“ understanding hit him, and he rolled his eyes. “Jo told you, didn’t she?”

“She just said that it was true.”

“Well, then you already know the answer: Yes, I was really in prison. My turn.” He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that Cas couldn’t make out. “Much lighter topic, but just out of curiosity: do you have any siblings?”

“I thought I told you?”

“Right, you did. Youngest child?” Cas nodded, and Dean continued, “brothers or sisters?”

“I have two older brothers and three older sisters.” Dean’s eyes grew three sizes at that, and he whistled, clearly surprised. 

“Wow.”

“My parents are rich,” Cas shrugged, as if that would justify his unusually large amount of siblings. “Going youngest to oldest, there’s me, then Rachel, Samandriel, Bartholomew, Hael and Naomi. Naomi’s 29, so there are a few years between each of us.” 

“That makes having just one brother and one sister seem like a piece of cake.” 

They both fell silent after what Dean had said, neither of them wanting to correct his now false statement. 

“Another question,” Cas said quietly at last, and not waiting for Dean’s consent, he kept going. He was thinking about what Jo had said, about how Dean had changed since he came back from prison. And he desperately wanted to know why. “What was it like? Being in prison?”

“You’re not going to ask me why I was sent there?”

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t answer.” Dean scoffed and closed his eyes, searching through his memories.

“It was scary. Really scary, just thinking back takes my breath away. I’d just turned eighteen, too, so I didn’t really have much to put up against the hundreds of kilos of 40-year old men when they took my food and threatened to beat me if I tattled.”

“It sounds awful.”

“I’ve never told anyone, you know? About this, about these things I’m telling you right now. Not even Sam, and I tell him everything. But he doesn’t know that his big brother spent 11 months being so scared that he couldn’t even sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“That’s the thing though, I want to tell you. I want you to know.” He took a deep gasping breath, momentarily stranded in his brain. “I feel like I can do this, like I can get past my memories, and Jo, and everything, if only I have you with me. And I know it’s asking way too much of you, and that we barely know each other, but I don’t know. I just feel like I can do it, with you.”

Cas swallowed hard.

“If you’re up for it, of course.”

He blinked, thoughts swarming through his mind but suddenly unable to transform a single one of them into a word. Dean was offering to be his friend, actually pretty much _begging_ him to be his friend, and all he could think of was that Dean didn’t know what he was signing up for. That they didn’t know each other, and that Dean would grow tired of him. He had never had a really close friend that was a guy, but on the other hand, his only really close friend had been Jo. And some of the things that he had told Dean during their Q &A session were things that he hadn’t even told her. 

His brain was torn in two directions, and he didn’t know which one to choose. Could he trust Dean, let him into his life? This peculiar boy, brother to his dead best friend whom he had started to realize he hadn’t known that well at all. He hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her that he was gay. Or that his parents had watched him get abused every day at school without stepping in. 

Sure, Dean was good-looking, and he was kinder than he could have imagined, there was no way he could deny to that. And he had bluntly revealed that he was interested in both boys and girls, and surely Cas hadn’t mistaken the smug smile that had appeared when he’d said that he was single. 

The thing that bothered Cas was the fact that it was Dean Winchester he was pouring his heart out to. Was Dean just looking for someone to dump his sorrows on, someone to leave behind once he’d started to heal? After all, Cas was Cas. And Dean was Dean. Picturing the two of them being friends, or something more, was nearly impossible. 

“I-” he mumbled, but he’d already seen the change in Dean’s eyes as he’d waited for his reply. The moment Dean had understood why Cas was hesitating. 

“You…? You what?” He laughed, but it was a hollow, sad sound. “I just bared my soul for you, and you can’t utter a single word? You know what, fuck you,” he spat, scrambling to his feet. “You’re no different from those fucking jocks you’re so afraid of.” 

Unable to speak, explain, do anything to stop Dean from leaving, Cas simply followed him in silence. He stood a few feet behind him, holding Bucky back to keep him from bounding on the angry boy. 

“I just-“

“No, no, no, don’t try to explain yourself. I understand. I’m nothing but a fucking criminal who couldn’t possibly be worthy of your time. You should really stop thinking so highly of yourself, that you can’t even give me a chance.”

The door slammed in Cas’s face, and he slowly let go of Bucky. 

_What have I done?_ He screamed the words at himself in silence. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you all liking this so far? I still feel weird calling the main character Cas instead of....drumroll......Chase.  
> Alright, not that big of a difference. I must've had Destiel in mind when I wrote this. Can't imagine why. 
> 
>  
> 
> Some things in this chapter may be a bit trigger-y, so scroll down to the end notes for warnings if you're worried!

Getting out of bed the following day proved to be a whole new level of difficult. Cas couldn’t really see the point of it, the point of anything. He had been experiencing that feeling quite a lot the past four days. 

Something had woken him up, something he couldn’t quite make out. A noise. Jody had said goodbye to him in the morning, of course, kissing him lightly on the forehead and telling him that she’d be back later that night. He’d fallen back asleep the second he heard the door slam shut. 

Now there was a noise, and only after a few minutes and a repeating of the noise could Cas make it out as a knock. A knock on the door. 

Someone wanted to be let in.

Sighing deeply and rolling around in bed, Cas decided to ignore the knock. It was probably just a salesman. Probably. 

Dean wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. 

The sound of the front door opening and several feet scuffling inside was enough for Cas to sit straight up in bed in a flash. Bucky, who had been dozing at his feet, darted out of the room before he had time to stop him, but the sounds that came from the hall weren’t angry barks or yells of fear, but cheery, greeting voices. 

“Cas! If you don’t get out of that room this instant I’m going to bust the door in, no matter what you are or aren’t wearing!” 

Benny’s voice boomed through the house, and Cas could make out Meg’s laughter. Confused and, quite frankly, slightly annoyed, Cas made his way to the hall where he was met by an unexpected sight: Benny, Meg, Kevin and Charlie, all dumping their winter jackets on the floor and making their way inside. 

“We called you, like a thousand times,” Charlie greeted softly, giving him a hug. 

“I know, I turned my phone off after the first two calls.” Holding him at an arm’s length, Charlie burst out a laugh. 

“Thanks for sugar-coating it.” 

They all took their turns hugging him, then they drifted off into the kitchen without waiting for Cas to ask them to come inside. To be fair, they had just barged in through the door, so there wasn’t much left for them to do that would surprise him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Cas tried, slumping against the wall as Benny and Meg unpacked two plastic bags of grocery that he hadn’t even noticed they’d brought in. Exchanging a worried look, Benny nodded shortly and took a step towards Cas. 

“We’ve been kind of worried about you, not hearing from you and all. Mrs. Johnson let us take the day off, so we could come here and cheer you up.”

“Well, thanks, but I don’t really feel like being ‘cheered up’.” 

“Don’t worry, it only involves eating Kevin’s infamous chocolate chip brownies and watching _How I Met Your Mother_.”

Cas tried to come up with some sort of excuse, anything that would get them to leave, but the offer was just too tempting. 

“Fine,” he growled at last, positioning himself comfortably in the couch. “But one of you has to take Bucky for a walk.”

They left Cas alone for a little while, letting him get over the initial shock of being invaded by his friends. About fifteen minutes after being abruptly awakened, the front door opened and closed and silence was all that was left in the house. 

Benny entered the living room, quietly taking the same spot in the couch that Dean had occupied only a day earlier. 

“What are you doing here, really?” Cas said quietly, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Some of the seams were beginning to unravel. 

“You know why we’re here. We all loved Jo, too. There’s no point in you suffering through this alone.” Cas had to bite back the reply he wanted to throw in Benny’s face, because he knew that his friend was only trying to help. 

“I just- I can’t sit here and talk to you all and pretend to be happy. All I need is some peace and quiet, and-“

He almost said it. 

_Dean_.

Dean understood. Dean knew what he needed, which buttons he could push and which he ought to leave alone. Cas had scared off the single person in the whole world who could really help him. 

Because why, why on earth would Dean want to be with him?

“God, I messed up,” Cas moaned, leaning forwards to hide his face in his hands.

“What? What did you do?”

“I basically told Dean that I didn’t want to be his friend.” There was no point in pretending that he hadn’t heard the sharp intake of breath coming from Benny, so Cas straightened up, meeting his gaze.

“Have you been talking to Dean?”

“Yes, but that’ll probably never happen again. He hates my guts.”

“You know how I feel about him-“

“He’s a good guy. He really is. And he asked me if I’d want to spend some more time with him, but-“

“You said no? You said _no_?” Benny chuckled as Cas nodded guiltily, running a hand through his hair. “Wow, I actually feel sorry for him.”

“Benny, you know why I can’t be his friend.”

“Why, because the jocks hate your guts? Seriously, you _should_ be his friend, and maybe they’ll cut you some slack. Don’t refuse to get to know him just because you think he won’t like you.”

“He won’t.”

“You didn’t think that either of us would like you, yet here we are, looking after your stupid ass. If you want to hang out with Dean, do it. Find out where he’s at instead of making assumptions.”

“You’re such a philosopher sometimes,” Cas sighed, but he felt a tiny spark of something inside him that he couldn’t quite place. Hope? Whatever it was, it was quickly destroyed by the thought of Dean slamming the door shut in his face after screaming at him. “It still doesn’t change the fact that he’s angry with me.”

“So go _talk_ to him. Apologize.”

“I can’t-“

“Just follow my advice, brother. Say you’re sorry, bump his shoulder and you’ll be back to wherever you were.” Benny leaned over to ruffle his hair, grinning widely as he did so, every bit of his big-brother-character showing. It made Cas feel safe, like he was being taken care of. 

 

When they were all gathered again and Bucky had gotten his walk, Kevin took charge of the TV-remote and Netflix, while Meg pulled out box after box with chocolate chip brownies. She and Charlie fell into a discussion about a dessert Meg had attempted to make after watching _MasterChef,_ which ultimately led to the two of them cramping from laughter on the floor while the boys watched _How I Met Your Mother_ , Kevin and Benny imitating Barney’s various facial expressions as he tried to pick up yet another girl. Meg glanced at the TV for a few moments, then at Kevin and Benny, then back at the close-up of Barney kissing a woman with black hair. 

“You two, you do know that the actor who plays Barney is gay, right?” Cas sharpened an ear at the statement, gluing his eyes to the screen as if he hadn’t heard. 

“No way,” Kevin laughed, tossing a pillow in Meg’s direction. “You’re just trying to show off that you know something.”

“It’s true though!” Charlie chimed in, catching the pillow mid-air. “His name’s Neil Patrick Harris, and he has a husband and two children.”

“Huh, really? That’s a shame,” Benny pondered, however his eyes were crinkling up at the corners and Cas could see that he was fighting to smile.

“And why is that?” Meg exclaimed, giving him a dubious look. 

“It makes you wonder if all his techniques really work on girls or not.”

“Benny!” Charlie groaned, but she joined the rest as they began to laugh. Cas stood up brusquely and left the living room, heading to the bathroom where he locked the door behind him before putting one hand on either side of the sink, letting his head slump forwards. He could still hear his friends’ voices as they slipped through the crack between the door and the floor.

“Is he alright?” Charlie’s voice sounded concerned. 

“He’ll be alright, don’t worry. I think he just doesn’t feel like he deserves to have fun now that-“ Benny’s voice died off, being replaced by a sob. 

“Now that Jo’s gone,” Kevin finished, and Cas flinched where he stood. Jo was really gone, Joanna, the blonde hair never to get stuck in his coat’s zipper again as they hugged. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Cas hated what he was seeing. He hated that his eyes were dry and that his mouth was pointing down at the corners. Jo had made more than one remark on the subject:

 

“ _You ought to smile more, Cas, or people will think that you’re no fun.”_  
“But I’m not very funny.” She laughed, a brilliant, bright laugh that spread through him like a warm breeze.  
“You make me laugh every day, you fucking clown. Smile more, show that you’re happy.”  
“I am happy.” Thanks to you, he thought, but he didn’t dare to say it.

 

Cas didn’t know what to do. He wanted to scream, to break the mirror into a million pieces with his fists, to cry and curl his body into a ball until he could finally feel something.

Instead, he just watched his reflection in silence, all his senses completely numb. Like he was watching himself from above. 

“Jo’s gone,” he whispered to himself, still trying to comprehend the significance of those words. He turned the tap on to the coldest setting and splashed water onto his face, drying it off with a towel that smelled of perfume, but he didn’t really mind. The water cleared his mind slightly, and he finally gained the courage to return to his friends. 

Meg was in the middle of saying something when Cas appeared, clumsily making his way past the dog-stopping-barrier – and by god did they need to get a new one. Their eyes met and he waved at her to continue, so she did, quickly regaining her previous enthusiasm. 

“So if I’m lucky, I’ll be going to Yale next year!” 

“That’s amazing,” Charlie squealed, hugging her best friend tightly. Cas, who had missed the introduction to the topic, took a beat before saying something. 

“You’re going to Yale?”

“I’m going to Yale,” Meg repeated with a laugh, standing up to hug him. 

“Wow- um, I mean, congratulations.” 

“Thank you, Cas.” 

They celebrated by stuffing brownies into Meg’s mouth, then they all started to chat excitedly about their futures. Meg wanted to go to Yale to become a lawyer. Charlie was going backpacking. Kevin wanted to work at a youth rec center. Benny didn’t really know what he wanted, just like Cas. However, they could all feel that high school was nearing its end – they could just make out the finish line, and soon they would all be dashing for it, secretly wishing that they could start all over again. 

It took one hour and two more episodes of _How I Met Your Mother_ before Benny pulled them all out of their euphoria with some sobering news.

“The funeral is on Friday, at 10am. We’ve all been invited to the gathering afterwards.”

“Really? By who?”

“Her parents, I guess. I received a letter this morning. I’m assuming you all want to go?” A quiet but synced nod spread from one to the other, Benny humming his consent. “Good. I can drive us there if you want to. Are any of your parents going?”

“No.”

“They didn’t really know her.” 

“Alright. Be ready around 9am on Friday then.” Kevin tried to fall back into one of their previous conversations, but it was difficult for any of them to scatter the overpowering thoughts of Jo. In the end, it was Charlie, blessed Charlie, who got them all to leave. 

“Come on, let’s go home and let Cas have some peace.” 

He got one hug from each of them, and a ruffling of his hair from Benny, who was the last to leave.

“Remember what I said. Start with an apology.” 

“Sure,” Cas winced, before pushing him out the door, which earned him a laugh. When he had closed it he slowly sunk down to the floor, back leaning against the hard wood. Bucky padded up to him, whining slightly until he got a scratch on the neck from Cas’s hands.

Deciding that it was time for another walk, Cas put on Bucky’s leash, buried himself in his thick winter coat and left the house. It was starting to get really cold really fast. 

 

 

The morning of the funeral Cas had to tell his aunt that he wanted to go alone a total of eleven times before she yielded and left for work. Cas took a quick shower after she had left, remembering that morning when Jo had run her hands through his wet hair, frowning at him and telling him that his hair would freeze when he went outside. 

He was careful to dry his hair properly before getting dressed. 

The suit he was wearing was the only one he owned, and it had been his brother Samandriel’s. The sleeves were a little tight around Cas’s growing biceps, and his shoulders were slightly too wide for it to fit comfortably. However, it was all he had and it would do just fine. He pulled out the black tie from the back of his closet, hanging it around his neck and struggling to get it underneath the collar of his white shirt. 

Holding the two ends of the tie in his hands, Cas suddenly realized that he had virtually no idea what he was supposed to do with it. He figured that he should tie it in some way or another, but the only time he had seen it was years ago, when his father had done it in front of him on one of the rare mornings that they had had breakfast together. 

“A good tie makes the whole outfit,” he’d say. Cas bit the inside of his cheek, thinking that he would gladly meet his dad again if only he could tie his tie for him. Scratching the side of his head absently, Cas pulled out his phone to google instructions for how to tie a tie. 

“Tie a tie,” he mumbled, the words making no sense as he repeated them over and over again, but eventually he found a video where a guy in a white shirt and a blue tie held a two-minute long step-by-step guide that Cas followed closely. He ended up with something that looked at least half-presentable, and deemed it to be adequate when he heard a car horn honking outside. 

“Good morning,” Benny said somberly as Cas squeezed in next to Meg. Charlie, who lived closest to Benny, was riding shotgun, and she turned in her seat to give him a smile. 

“You look nice,” she said, combing down a strand of hair on his head. 

“I think we all look good,” Meg shot in, earning a chuckle from Benny. 

“Alright, Roy O’Bannon. Let’s go.” They chatted a little during the 20-minute drive to the church where the funeral was to take place, never really able to be quiet. Cas found it nearly unbearable to listen to the conversation, but he couldn’t shut it out. The words hammered on his temples, making him want to tear his eyes out, but all he did was sit in silence and gaze blankly out the window. 

Jo was gone. Yeah, he had already told himself that at least a hundred times. Everything, and nothing, had changed. 

The first morning rays hit the church, making it light up not entirely unlike the way Cleveland had been on fire on their trip to the Terminal Tower. The biggest difference was the cluster of black-clothed men, women and children that stood in front of the church. Cas spotted ash brown hair and dark eyes looking in his direction. Benny parked the car, and Cas was the first one out. 

He looked over at Dean again, who was still facing him. Their eyes suddenly locked, and Cas couldn’t bring himself to break it off. Frozen in his position, Cas did nothing to show Dean that he was aware of their rather intense eye-contact. He just stared. Stared into those familiar dark eyes, wondering what thoughts lay behind them. 

Dean’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, and only then did Cas realize that he was smiling. It was the lopsided grin, Dean’s telltale expression. And it was directed towards him. Before he could think to return the gesture, Dean looked away, being interrupted by a woman in black, who guided him into the church. Cas could just spot how Dean flung his arm across Sam’s shoulders before Benny stepped into his field of view. 

“You okay?” he said quietly, and Cas started nodding his head before it changed into a shaking motion instead. 

“I’ll get through it,” he said through gritted teeth. Charlie hooked her arm through his and together they started walking towards the church. The priest welcomed them by shaking their hands, and they slowly made their way inside. Cas spotted a few more students that he recognized from school, and nodded shortly at them. One of the girls gave him a little wave, clearly recognizing him as Jo’s friend. 

In the church, they chose one of the pews in the front half of the building, ending up only three rows behind Dean and Sam. From what Cas could see, Sam was leaning into Dean’s chest, being rocked slowly back and forth. The doors closed while Cas was still watching the two brothers at the front, and the service began. 

Cas wasn’t, and had never been, a big fan of going to church. Growing up with Catholic parents that every day reprimanded him for not praying along with the rest of the family at the dinner table had made him question a belief that had never really been there to start with. Was there a god? He truly didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t care. 

The only part he had enjoyed as a child, and still enjoyed, was observing the windows. The massive, colorful windows with hundreds of little glass pieces stuck together by some extremely patient worker at the time the church had been built.

Cas spent most of the service watching the windows, refusing to listen to the priest who recited word after word from the book in her hands. He didn’t hate it, absolutely not. On the contrary, he was jealous of all those people who found solace in believing that everything happened for a reason, that god had a plan. 

That 17-year old girls didn’t just get killed without a cause. 

When the priest was done talking, they sang a few songs, then she said a few more words to finish up, and then it was done. Together with four men that Cas didn’t recognize, Dean and Sam stepped up to the coffin, grabbed a handle each and carried it out into the eerie graveyard where a rectangular hole had already been prepared. The coffin was slowly lowered into the hole, resting at last at about two meters depth. 

A deep silence hung over the cemetery, only disrupted by the occasional sniffle. The sun had gone up completely, but was covered by thin clouds that only let a few stray sunbeams through. Cas shuddered deeper into his coat, eyes locked on the dark hole a few meters away. He was surprised by an embrace, and found himself pressing his chin down on top of Charlie’s head. Meg joined in by wrapping her arms around both of them, and soon Benny and Kevin completed the group hug with their protecting arms. 

Breaking away from each other was difficult, but when they were the only ones left next to the gaping hole in the ground, they stepped away and followed the crowd towards the parish house where the gathering was to be held. 

Two tables had been dragged to the middle of the great dining room, flooding with plates and bowls of food. Black dresses and suits stood in line to fill a plate each with a selection of the pies, steaks, vegetables and bread that was presented. 

Cas stomach churned at the sight, and he felt sick. When the sensation refused to disappear, he excused himself, clutching at his stomach as he walked outside, taking the back door to the garden behind the building. 

Fresh air seized his lungs and he leaned against a tree, allowing himself to feel nothing but the rough bark against his back. Just as the nausea had left him, however, he could make out the unmistakable sound of someone retching around the corner of the building. 

Closing in on the sound, Cas found out that the one causing it was none other than Dean Winchester himself, doubled over by a bush in the garden next to the cemetery where his sister was buried.

He didn’t look up as Cas approached, but after a not-so-subtle cough Dean straightened up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve simultaneously. He was clutching the right side of his stomach with his left hand, looking like he was about to crawl in on himself. 

“Fried shrimp, man, really not up my alley,” he grinned, trying so desperately to hold himself together. When Cas didn’t speak, he seemed to relax a little, but the broken look in his eyes drilled into Cas’s mind and fuck, he was supposed to say something but now he was crumbling. 

“I-“ he tried, but it was no good because Dean interrupted him. 

“I’m sorry I got so angry with you. You have every right to be suspicious.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cas mumbled, having trouble getting the words out. 

“But I do- I do worry. I worry because I think I might have burned any chance I ever had of earning your trust, and I don’t want to lose you because I’ve had a crush on you since the first time I heard Jo talking about you.” 

Every single syllable got stuck in Cas’s throat, making him wonder if he could literally choke on his own words. He took a step forwards. Yes, he could still maintain that simple bodily function called movement. He took another step, and now the distance between him and Dean was short enough for him to reach out an arm and touch him, which he for some reason couldn’t make himself do. 

“You have a crush on _me_?”

“Of course I do! You’re like this beautiful and wonderful fucking _god_ that I thought was in love with my sister. As if someone like you could ever go for someone like me,” Dean cried, gesturing wildly towards himself, and now tears were beginning to form in his dark, dark eyes. 

“But now she’s _gone_ , and I can’t think about her because when I do the only thing I can think of is that you were her best friend.” An animal-like noise suddenly broke free from Dean’s throat, and he basically collapsed, crumpling to the ground with a howl of pain. 

“She’s gone,” he yelled, desperately tugging at his tie, fingers not functioning. 

“I know,” Cas soothed, approaching him warily. He kneeled beside the broken boy, helping him untie the noose around his neck, unbuttoning the top buttons as well. Dean’s fingers fumbled forwards, taking hold of Cas’s shirt and gripping it as if his life depended on it. A sob croaked in his chest and Cas’s heart dropped just hearing it. He had no real clue what he was doing trying to soothe Dean, but he let him lean into his chest the same way he had seen Sam do during the service, and wrapped his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders just like Dean had done to Sam. Dean clutched warily at his stomach and chest with the hand that wasn’t glued to Cas’s shirt, alternating between digging his nails into his flesh and rubbing the skin through the fabric. Cas wanted to stop him, but his arms were busy holding him up.

Neither of them said anything for a while, because words seemed insignificant as Dean’s sobs tore through his body, growing less and less frequent by the minute but still alarmingly violent. 

“Fucking piece of shit,” Dean muttered at last, not moving a single muscle. 

“I guess I should’ve figured who she got all the swearwords from,” Cas replied, with no real intention of lightening the mood, but he got Dean to chuckle despite everything. 

“She wasn’t very polite, was she?” he smiled, burrowing his head deeper into Cas’s chest. Cas shook his head no, tightening his hold on Dean as he could feel another wave of sobs rip through him. 

In between two rounds of crying Dean made an attempt at straightening up, pushing himself into a sitting position with extensive help from Cas.

“I’ve got to-“ he winced, visibly shutting off what could only be pain, “I have to find Sammy. He needs me,” he mumbled, trying to stand up but his legs refused to obey him.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said quietly, taking hold of Dean’s wrists to keep him from struggling. 

“No, it’s not, I- I need to find him, I have to look after him-“

“Sam will be alright for five minutes, trust me.” Dean’s hands were shaking spastically, his every muscle riled up and tense. Doing whatever he could think of to calm him, Cas placed a hand on his shoulder, but Dean immediately recoiled at the contact. 

“Don’t touch me,” he gasped, and in a split second Cas had pulled his hands away, his heart beating madly against his ribs. Somewhere, the part of his brain that wasn’t acting on sheer impulse, recognized that Dean was going through a serious breakdown, and the words “anxiety attack” were brought up from the files of knowledge inside his head. 

He was supposed to do…something. Something to help. But what?

“Do you want me to get someone?” Cas asked, worry seeping through his words. _Calm down_ , he told himself. Dean made a sound that Cas could only interpret as ‘no’, which didn’t exactly ease the panic he could feel building inside him. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Fingers curled around his suit at chest height, Dean slowly sinking further towards the ground with a whimper. 

“What can I do to help? Anything?” Dean was silent, but the fingers that held on to Cas never failed. He waited patiently, and after what felt like hours but in reality only was a couple of seconds, Dean took a deep, shuddering breath, and managed to utter a single word, his voice cracking as he pulled together an incredible amount of willpower to say it.

“Talk.” 

Cas frowned in confusion, wondering what Dean wanted from him. Was he supposed to find someone and talk to them about what was going on? The fingers on his suit said otherwise. Dean noticed his hesitance, and lifted his head slightly, still not looking into his eyes. 

“Distract me,” he croaked, rubbing his free hand against the side of his chest. 

“I had this really weird cat when I was little,” Cas blurted out, and when Dean didn’t seem to object, he continued, “Her name was Diglett, because I was a huge Pokémon-fan and I got to name her myself.” 

Cas paused, casting a glance at Dean. He was frozen still, either listening intently or zoning off, Cas didn’t know. 

“My sister Naomi gave me a really hard time about it, because Diglett was like this digging Pokémon, like a mole, and she tried to explain to her six-year old little brother that cats don’t dig.” He snorted at the memory, shaking his head as he remembered how Naomi had held a lecture on differences between moles and cats. It had ended up with Cas stating that it didn’t matter because Diglett was a Pokémon. 

“Anyway, Diglett was probably secretly a Pokémon, or just the strangest cat ever. One time when I got home from school I found her lying on one of my books, a book that had been at the top shelf of my bookcase, and it was open, like she had been reading it and I interrupted her.” 

Dean’s breathing had settled a little, but he showed no signs of wanting Cas to stop, so he kept going. 

“She would eat anything, literally anything. Her favorite was blueberries, and once when we let her in after she had been outside for a few hours she was completely purple around her mouth. She’d eat anything, that cat,” Cas mused, seeing how the tension seeped from Dean’s back. He slowly let go of Cas’s suit, leaning into his arms instead with a shudder. Cas continued with the cat-stories for a few minutes, feeling strangely nostalgic as he remembered some of the strange adventures of Diglett the cat. Dean wasn’t making him stop, but eventually Cas’s voice died out. He’d run out of stories to tell. 

Dean was silent, Cas was silent, and all they could hear was the occasional car and the voices coming from the building behind them. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispered at last, his voice breaking as he spoke. “For doing that.”

“Did it help?” 

“Yes, Cas,” Dean chuckled, finally, finally looking into his eyes. “It helped.” He sat up slowly, moving like he was broken inside and out. 

Cas thought back on one of his first conversations with Dean, when he had told him that he was afraid of facing a meltdown sooner or later. It seemed as if his predictions had been correct. 

“She really is dead,” Dean said quietly. 

 

Neither of the two boys ate anything that was served in the parish house that November afternoon. They convinced each other that they weren’t hungry and that they’d both had big breakfasts, but the truth was that they simply didn’t have any appetite. 

The only thing Dean was really interested in after the incident in the backyard was sleeping, which resulted in him and Sam leaving the gathering before anyone else. No one really blamed them. 

There was quite a lot of gossip going around concerning Jo’s absent parents and their whereabouts. The conclusion Cas heard most often was that they were at home, sick from grief, and unable to come. 

For some reason Cas found it hard to believe those rumors. 

The five friends rendezvoused at Kevin’s after, pulling out an old Monopoly game which they busied themselves with for a few hours. Cas was only playing half-heartedly, struggling with setting his mind on anything besides flashes of Dean on the cold ground, cheeks wet and eyes broken. 

Luckily for Cas, Bucky needed a walk, so he excused himself before the game was even finished, letting the rest of them fight over his streets and money. Cas let himself out of the house, only really being able to breathe once he was alone again. 

Bucky practically jumped at him when he walked through the door, licking his hands and placing his large paws on Cas’s thighs to reach his face. The love he held for the animal threatened to make his lungs burst, so he spent a few minutes just fondly scratching his belly. 

They went for a walk. 

Jo was dead. 

Back at the house, Bucky devoured his food in twenty-two seconds, before he crashed on the sofa next to Cas, who hadn’t eaten or drunk anything that day besides a glass of water. 

Jo was gone. 

Cas absently turned on the TV, dozing further and further towards unconsciousness as Gordon Ramsay yelled insults at a blue-haired woman with two piercings in her nose. 

Jo was really, truly, dead. 

Cas fell asleep next to Bucky, his warm fur shielding him from nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -There's a funeral in this chapter, just so you know.   
> -Dean has an anxiety attack and Cas helps him through it.   
> -General panic and sad people, lots of 'em  
> -Cas is sort of detached and depressed


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, see the end notes for warnings since there is one potentially trigger-y part

Cas’s mind was split into two as he led himself and Bucky to the Winchester house a few days after the funeral. The only real contact he’d had with Dean was sending him a screenshot of when he’d been listening to Led Zeppelin. Dean had replied by sending an image of the same album cover on a poster hanging on a black wall. 

It was Monday. A dark Monday with clouds so thick you couldn’t even get a hint as to where the sun was in the sky. The Winchester house was equally grey, dark gaping windows ogling Cas as he stood in front of it. The paint had begun to crack on the rickety porch, neglected by the residents. 

A few men and women passed by Cas as he stopped in front of the house, giving him and Bucky odd glances. He was an outsider, and quite aware of it too. The difference between Dean’s neighborhood and his own was stalling, being only a few kilometers apart from each other. Cas didn’t exactly live in the most luxurious part of town, but weeds didn’t grow between the cracks in the pavement there, and rusty old cars didn’t line the street. 

There was one specific car that Cas took notice of, looking like it had received a bit more TLC through the years than the rest. It was obviously old, but it gleamed in the weak light and the black paint looked flawless. If he’d had some more knowledge of cars, he’d have mentioned it to Dean, but calling it “the black car” felt ridiculous. 

Walking up the steps to Dean’s house, Cas’s previous nervousness returned. He hadn’t exactly told Dean that he was coming, because he hadn’t known it himself when he had stepped out of the door at home. Would he send Cas back home? Would he be angry? 

Cas almost bolted from the door after he had knocked, sorting through hundreds of greeting phrases to find one he could use. 

“Good afternoon? Greetings? Hello?” Cas mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

Dean cracked the door open with a lopsided grin. 

“Hey,” he said, Cas frowning at the simplicity and significance of that single word. 

“Hey,” he copied, entering the house as Dean stepped to the side to let him in. 

“No snow yet, huh?” Dean pondered, watching Cas struggle to get his shoes off.

“Nope. Can Bucky go in?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugged, and when Cas took the leash off, Bucky darted into the house with his nose glued to the floor.

The house was still freezing cold, the floor creaking underneath two pairs of feet with woolen socks. Dean had tossed a pair at Cas before they walked into the kitchen to the right. He ran his fingers along the countertops, ending up leaning against the stove while Cas took a seat in the same chair he had occupied on his last visit. 

Cas scanned the room quietly, noticing a few scratches, some open drawers and a dent in the fridge before his eyes landed on a dark stain on the floor. Tilting his head, Cas squinted and leaned forwards unconsciously until Dean cleared his throat. 

“Do you want a tour of the house?”

“Sure,” Cas replied, getting to his feet again. Dean hesitated for only a split second before he stepped towards the open door behind him that led into the next room. 

“Well, this is the kitchen,” he said, gesturing around vaguely before motioning at Cas to follow him. “Here’s the living room, TV…” Two of the walls in the room had windows, illuminating the room in the same grey light that the world outside had at the moment. A worn-down but comfortable-looking couch stood in front of the TV, next to it two armchairs and a glass table that seemed too delicate compared to the rest of the furniture. The living room led around to a hallway that begun with a staircase and ended by the front door. 

“Dad lives upstairs,” Dean mumbled with another hand gesture, leading Cas to the remaining three doors that were set next to each other. “Bathroom,” he pointed to the first one, “Sam’s room,” the second one, “and-“ he paused, as if considering what to say. In the end he went with a simple “my room.” 

Cas glanced inside, absorbing every detail of the poorly lit room. Forest-green wallpaper provided a gentle atmosphere, in sharp contrast to the various band posters that covered every inch of the left wall. Cas spotted The Beatles, Deep Purple, Queen, Led Zeppelin, along with countless names he had never heard of. The room was slightly warmer than the hallway had been, and Cas shrugged involuntarily

“I’ve got my own _wall_ of fame,” Dean scoffed, turning on the light by the bedside table. When Dean had entered the room, Cas got a feeling that it was a place of safety for him. The way he immediately relaxed and filled up the space was contagious. 

Below the wall with posters stood a double bed, that Cas realized was actually a sofa bed, with plain white sheets. A desk stood next to it facing the window, along with two kitchen chairs, but other than that the room was quite empty. There was a large closet on the opposite side of the desk with mirrors Cas saw himself in. He could tell that Dean was fidgeting nervously behind him, so he turned around with a nod. 

“I like it.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of the way I imagined the inside of your head would be.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dean laughed, punching his arm softly. He made a motion as if he was reaching for something behind Cas’s face, just as Cas shifted his weight slightly, which led to Dean’s hand pushing Cas’s shoulder with enough force to send him toppling to the side on one foot. Luckily, Dean had time to catch him before he went tumbling to the floor. 

It all ended up with Dean gripping Cas’s arms tightly, pressing his torso against the door. An awkward silence spread between them as they realized the rather strange position they had found themselves in, but it broke as Dean burst out a laugh. 

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” he chuckled, helping Cas straighten up before carefully turning him towards the door. “I was going to show you that,” he tapped his finger twice on a poster that was taped to the black wood. Cas immediately recognized it. 

“It’s the Led Zeppelin album I was listening to,” he stated, as Dean let go of his arms. 

“Led Zeppelin IV,” he confirmed, cocking his head. “What do you think?”

“ _Stairway to Heaven_ is brilliant. I haven’t had time to get to know the rest yet.” A sudden noise clanked upstairs, and Cas intuitively twisted his head towards it, just seeing how Dean jerked his arms up towards his face, lowering them with the same speed.

“Is your dad home?” Dean shook his head, still recovering from the shock of the sound. “It’s got to be Bucky then,” Cas continued, glancing out the door towards the staircase. 

“He can’t be up there,” Dean mumbled almost lethargically. 

“I’ll go and get him-“

“NO! I mean-“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it, just stay here.” 

It was a startled Cas that watched his friend leave the room, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he went up the stairs. Why didn’t Dean want him to go up there? A few moments of silence were followed by the unmistakable padding of paws, and then both Dean and Bucky had returned to the first floor. 

Bucky stopped by the door that led to Sam’s room, Dean patting the dog affectionately. 

“Let’s see if my brother’s up!” he grinned, every trace of his earlier distress gone. Cas forced himself to drop it, recognizing the stubbornness that Dean had shared with his sister – he knew better than to be too inquisitive. 

“What the hell are you doing?“ Sam exclaimed as Dean flung the door open, letting Bucky charge inside. The youngest Winchester brother’s words were cut off as he was attacked by the mountain of fur that was a German shepherd, but his voice soon turned joyous. 

“A dog, Dean, really?”

“Sammy, I’d like you to meet Cas,” Dean laughed, his voice smoothing out with adoration as he spoke to his brother. Sam’s head shot up behind Bucky as he heard the name, flashing a wide smile. 

“Oh wow, Cas!” he said happily, untangling himself from the blankets and pillows and the dog. When he reached Dean’s side he held a hand out towards Cas, who shook it willingly. Next to Sam, Dean suddenly seemed a whole lot larger. They were about the same height, both slightly taller than Cas, but while Dean was a muscular, handsome guy with his wide shoulders and toned arms, Sam was scrawny and a little goofy-looking. However, he still had the model-like facial features and pale, smooth skin that seemed too perfect to belong to a teenage boy. 

“Uh- nice to meet you, Sam,” Cas stuttered, eyes still darting between the brothers. He’d seen them many times in school, but never together, and never so close. Their faces revealed that they were related, with pale skin, straight noses and dark eyes the same as Jo’s. Dean laughed at Cas’s reaction, ruffling Sam’s hair into a mess that stuck out in every possible (and impossible) direction. 

“Come on, get your ass out of bed already. It’s 10am.”

“I am out of bed, dick,” Sam scowled, sticking his tongue out at his brother. “Is this Bucky?” Sam asked, leaning down to pet the dog.

“No, moron, it’s a stray we picked up on the way. What the hell do you think?” Dean rolled his eyes, and Cas quickly felt accustomed to their way of treating each other – probably because of how similar it was to the way Jo had been treating him. 

“Yes, this is Bucky,” Cas replied despite Dean’s tantrum, feeling a pang of pride as the dog shot him a look after he said his name. 

“Like in _Captain America_ ,” Sam said, Dean falling into a full-body laughter at his statement. 

“What?”

“Just like in _Captain America_ , yes. I think it’s time we increase Cas’s general knowledge. Go put on _The First Avenger_ , will you?” Dean grinned at Sam, pushing him off towards the living room. 

“My general knowledge is quite sufficient,” Cas grumbled, not really upset but trying to pretend that he was. Dean saw right through him, however, and clasped a hand on his shoulder, his thumb squeezing Cas’s collarbone. 

“When it comes to popular culture, I’m afraid it’s not, my friend. Let’s go see if we have any ice cream.” 

 

Cas was quite pleased as the movie began, being a bit of a WWII fan when it came to movies. He had to admit to Dean that he would never really look at Bucky the dog the same after Bucky the ridiculously good-looking soldier appeared on the screen. He was sad to see him fall off the train, for some reason reaching for his own Bucky when it happened. Dean seemed to notice, but he let it pass without a comment. 

“So, what do you think of Marvel?” Dean asked as the movie finished, his lopsided grin directed towards Cas. 

“That was your first Marvel-movie?” Sam chimed in, fending off Dean’s attempts at messing up his hair. 

“I’ve seen Ant-man. This was a lot better than I thought it would be,” Cas replied, tilting his head as he reflected upon the movie he had just seen. “Funnier than I thought it would be, too,” he added, Dean chuckling as he did.

“Just wait until we get to Iron Man,” he scoffed.

“The Avengers is even better,” Sam pondered, and Cas watched, quite amused, as the two brothers delved into a discussion on which Marvel-movie was the best. 

“The Avengers is the best, end of discussion,” Dean said at last, finally managing to reach his brother’s hair, making it stand out in every direction. “Now go to your room.”

“Why do I have to go to my-“

“Because the grown-ups want to be alone for a while, little brother. Scoot,” he sighed, Sam reluctantly leaving them. 

“He could’ve stayed,” Cas mumbled, but Dean simply waved him off. 

“The kid was about to fall asleep, he’s better off dozing in his bed than here.”

“Is he alright?”

“Nightmares are keeping him up, but it’s getting better. He’ll be fine.” A short pause followed, during which Cas gathered the courage to speak.

“Are you alright?” he said at last, making Dean inhale sharply, his body going completely still as he registered Cas’s question. Cas had suspected that Dean would be a little touchy when it came to how he was doing, so he had tried to wait for him to be as relaxed as possible. Watching him now, however, made Cas realize that it didn’t matter – Dean was already tensing up. 

“Look, I don’t want to be laying my crap on you. We don’t have to talk about it, we can talk about other stuff.” Dean’s hands had wandered to Bucky’s back, the dog lying between them, and he was running his fingers through the thick fur. “I get that you can’t handle my messy past together with your own.”

“I’m really sorry about our fight, Dean.”

“You mean the one where I was yelling at you? Bit of a one-way fight, I’d say.” 

“But you were right! I was afraid of believing that we could be friends, but only because I can’t come up with a single reason for you to want to be with me. After the funeral when-“

“When what? When you realized that I’m just a fucked up kid who can’t keep a lid on his emotions?” Dean was growing angry again, Cas could tell how he struggled to keep his voice calm. 

“No. When you said that you have a crush on me, I realized that maybe you’re really the kind of guy Jo always said you were.” Silence followed, and like that, the walls Dean had been building up crumbled, a smile slowly spreading across his face. 

“I can’t believe I said that,” he cringed, shaking his head in defeat. 

“I want us to share the load of our messy pasts together.” 

Dean leaned just a fraction towards Cas, his teeth now visible behind pink lips. 

“That was the cheesiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, man,” he laughed, Cas rolling his eyes. 

“It’s the truth.” He reached a hand towards Dean’s, burying it in Bucky’s fur while entwining their fingers. At the moment, that was enough.

“So, um, do you want to watch another movie?” Dean licked his lips, stumbling a little at the words. With a smile Cas checked his wrist for the time, nodding to himself. 

“Bucky needs a walk, but after?” 

They took Bucky on a walk around the block, treading on in a comfortable silence. Back in the house Dean made them grill sandwiches, waking Sam up to give him the chance to watch the next Marvel-movie with them, which happened to be _Iron Man_. Sam took one of the armchairs, and Bucky the other, leaving Dean and Cas to share the couch. It was wide enough to easily fit three persons, but they ended up just a millimeter apart despite the generous size. If Sam noticed, he didn’t mention it. 

When they reached the end of the movie, Cas admitted that it had more humor than the first one. He was listening intently to Sam’s detailed comparison between the Marvel comics and the movies when Dean’s phone rang. Exchanging a quick look with Sam, Dean sneaked into the kitchen to answer the call. 

Sam continued his current description of the differences between Iron Man’s suits, but Cas was more interested in what Dean was saying – apparently he shared this curiosity with Sam, who fell silent to listen to his brother’s muffled voice instead. 

“Yes, sir. No, sir, I haven’t. Sam hasn’t either.” There was a slight pause, during which Cas tried to figure out what was wrong with Dean’s voice. His heart dropped as he realized that it carried no trace of the light-hearted warmth that usually filled each word, making it come out cold and edgy. Cas hated it, and he wondered who could bring out such a disturbing side of this otherwise happy person. 

“I’ll pick you up on Thursday at noon. We will. Yes, sir.” Cas could make out the sound of the phone being dropped on the kitchen island as Dean finished speaking, and he instinctively stood up. 

“Don’t” Sam said weakly, his face the definition of sorrow. “He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Cas considered following Sam’s advice, but when the sound of choked-back sobs came from the kitchen he was quick to go after it. 

The sight that met him made Cas’s stomach twist. Dean was sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge, his head buried between his raised knees. 

“We should go to school tomorrow,” he croaked as Cas sat beside him, promptly ignoring how freezing the linoleum was underneath him. 

“Maybe we should,” Cas agreed, unsure whether or not to touch him. Dean raised his head slowly, releasing a shuddering breath. “Who was that on the phone?” he asked, but Dean only shook his head. 

“No one, it doesn’t matter.” He wiped his dry cheeks with his fingers, not knowing or not noticing that he hadn’t shed any tears. A red smudge covered his left cheek instead, Cas quickly grabbing his left hand before he could hide it. 

“You’re bleeding,” he said quietly, turning the hand over to show four identical red dots, lined up symmetrically. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean repeated while standing up, heading over to the kitchen sink to wash his face and hands from the blood. Cas approached him wearily.

“But-“

“Cas, please,” he whispered, locking eyes with his friend just as Sam sidled up next to him. 

“Here, let me wrap it up,” Sam soothed, drying Dean’s hand before wrapping bandage around it. 

“Thanks, kid,” Dean smiled dimly when he finished, ruffling his hair. “We’re both going back to school tomorrow.”

“But Dean-“

“No buts, we have to. Go get some rest so you don’t fall asleep during class.” He pulled him into a quick hug before sending him off to his room, only then turning his focus back on Cas who was just picking up a fork from the floor. He held it up with a pointed look, scrutinizing the red-stained tips. 

“It was an accident,” Dean mumbled, grabbing the fork from Cas with an unnecessary amount of force. 

“Alright.” Cas threw his hands up while taking a step away from Dean. He knew that there was a line in his friend’s head, dividing things that were okay to talk about from things that were never ever to be mentioned. If Cas was lucky, backing away might be a way for Dean to dare to let a few unspeakable topics in on the other side of the line. He just had to be patient. 

“I should go,” Cas said at last, letting his hands drop to his side with an almost comical sound. 

“Already?” Dean’s eyes still looked worried, especially along with his now furrowed brow. 

“Yes, aunt Jody will be coming home soon anyways.” Dean followed Cas to the door, just avoiding getting knocked over by Bucky who came running a split second after Cas whistled a single tune. Cas could feel Dean’s burning stare as he put on his shoes and his coat, but when he looked up the dark eyes were glued to the floor. He shivered inside the thick winter coat, since it still had the same temperature as the cold house. Cas didn’t usually get cold, but after a few hours in the Winchester’s house he felt a chill go straight to his bones. It was a miracle how Dean and Sam could endure it without a single complaint. 

“Will you come to school tomorrow?” Dean asked quietly, bending down to give Bucky an affectionate back rub. 

“Well, if you two are going I better go too, make sure you don’t burn the place down.” Dean finally cracked a smile, helping Cas by attaching the leash to Bucky’s collar. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He placed the leash in Cas’s open hand, leaning in quickly to peck him on the cheek before practically pushing him out the door, unsuccessfully hiding his blushed face. 

“I’ll see you,” Cas mumbled, his mouth agape until he gained enough sense of mind to close it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings  
> -It is implied that Dean knowingly harms himself, but no description of the act itself


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm kind enough to give you TWO chapters, please, tell me what you think? xx

The thought of going to school wasn’t at all as appealing the next morning, after Cas and Jody had gone for a walk with Bucky and Cas had showered. It was one of Jody’s rare days off, meaning that they had time to eat breakfast together for once. It also meant that Cas had to come up with a really good excuse if he wanted to stay at home.

“I really think you should go, Cas. You don’t have to take notes every lesson, just sitting there is a great start.” Cas was absently stirring his spoon around in his bowl of cereal, barely noticing how he splashed milk onto the table. 

“I don’t feel like it, okay?” he muttered, straightening up as Jody snapped her fingers in front of his face. 

“You listen to me, boy. You can’t mope around in here forever. Now, I can’t even begin to pretend that I know what you’re going through-“

“You’re right! You don’t!” Jody’s stern look was enough for Cas to sheepishly bite back his words, realizing that she in fact did know exactly what he was going through. 

“But I understand that you’re having a hard time. Tell me, do you want to feel like this?”

“No, but-“

“Of course you don’t. Has limiting your contact with people helped?”

“No…” Cas admitted, starting to understand where Jody was headed with her lecture. 

“Then I suggest you make some changes. Start by doing something familiar, then we’ll see where that takes you.”

“But I’ll be alone.”

“Bull, you know Benny won’t let you out of his sight. You have friends, Cas. Let them be there for you. Let them in.” 

“Are you a surgeon or a shrink?” Cas scoffed, however the resistance in him had faded. He knew that Jody was right. 

“For you, I’ll be anything.” 

“Thanks, Aunt J.” She ruffled his hair, watching him rearrange it into some kind of order with a smile. 

 

Cas walked to school, the route printed in his head but still it felt as if he was taking it for the first time. The pavement somehow felt rougher, and the buildings seemed darker. He stubbornly put his headphones in, hitting shuffle on the playlist on Spotify that he had been working on the night before. _Black Dog_ was the first song to begin playing, successfully turning Cas’s focus away from his surroundings. 

After cutting across the grass field, Cas stopped dead in his tracks, _November Rain_ screaming through the headphones as Cas pulled them out. 

Jo’s bike still stood in the middle of the parking lot, frost covering the green frame. The mere sight of it knocked the wind out of Cas’s lungs, and he had to lean forwards to avoid fainting at the spot. During one, naïve minute he allowed himself to imagine that she was waiting inside by the lockers, picturing her smile as she saw him and her frown as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She would ask him to hold her notebooks as she dug through her backpack to locate her pen, which she had also given to Cas to hold. He’d remind her, and she’d laugh while slamming her locker shut. 

The bubble burst as a hand gently shook his shoulder. 

“Hey, Cas, you alright?” Meg’s concerned face appeared in front of him, and he reluctantly straightened up. 

“Hey,” he greeted, giving her a quick hug. “I just-“ unable to finish the thought, he gestured towards the bike, Meg quickly catching on. 

“Yeah, the janitor didn’t have the heart to move it just yet. He said that he’d leave it until someone from her family came to claim it. I think it’s nice, actually. Like a memorial. Some people have even written notes on it.” Cas nodded in agreement, still finding it hard to catch his breath. “You coming inside?” 

“I just need a few minutes,” he replied, eyes still locked on the bike. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be by the lockers.”

“I’ll be right in.” Meg hesitantly walked away, looking back a total of three times before she went through the doors to NGordon.

Cas considered going home again, telling himself that just going to the parking lot had been a huge progress. However, the sight of Jo’s bike tethered him to the spot, because somehow he knew that if she was there at the moment she would tell him to get his ass inside the school and go to his lessons. 

Cas took a step towards the white building, then another, and once had started to walk it became a little easier to keep going with every step he took. 

Some ten or fifteen meters from the school Cas felt that he was being observed, and cast a look over his shoulder just in time to dodge the fist that had been directed towards his nose. He spun around, counting three jocks including Zach and a guy named Roman, along with two followers. 

Not the kind of push he needed to get back to normal life. 

“Just leave me alone,” Cas mumbled, trying to back away from them, but he was both surrounded and outnumbered. Zach’s response was to push him roughly, nearly causing him to fall but he got his feet under himself at the last second. With a laugh one of the followers pushed him in the other direction, then hands were picking and pushing him and soon he was on the ground, a boot making contact with his shin. 

Cas wished that he had the guts to fight back. He wanted nothing more than to make Zach and his crew bleed, but watching his brother Samandriel getting sent to the hospital after a fistfight years earlier had made him a strong opponent of violence. Those beliefs were slowly beginning to be broken down as he received kick after kick. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” a familiar yet unknown voice called, but at least it made the kicking stop. Cas dared to raise his head, noticing with sinking hopes that the person who had joined them was none other than Michael the Jock. 

“It’s just Novak, Michael. The dude hasn’t been here in more than a week.”

“Of course he hasn’t, you morons,” Michael spat, positioning himself between Cas and the rest of the gang. Cas could hear the blood rushing in his ears, wondering what had happened during his absence to make Michael take his side in a fight. “Get the hell out of here,” Michael exclaimed, pushing a defiant Zach away – it was clear that Michael had the higher ground of the two. 

Once the jocks minus Michael had scattered, said jock bent down, helping Cas get back on his feet. 

“I’m sorry, dude, really. For everything.” He brushed some dirt off the back of Cas’s coat, slowly leading him towards Nash. 

“What?” 

“I know I’ve been messing with you too, but it’ll never happen again, I swear. And I’ll keep the rest of them off your radar as much as I can.”

“Thanks?” Cas tried, Michael only shaking his head with a weak smile. 

“Hell no, I don’t deserve that. Now go to your damn classmates. I’ll see you around, Cas.” Michael waved a goodbye, heading over to Crosby where he had his locker. A confused Cas watched him go, before he reminded himself of school and his friends and history class. 

Time to return to the real life.

 

Despite his earlier worries, Cas’s day turned out to be quite pleasant. His friends seemed happy at his return, but made no remarks on his absence, for which Cas was grateful. He recapped the incident involving Michael and the jocks, receiving surprised expressions in response. Benny fussed a little over a scrape on his cheek, but Cas assured him that he wasn’t injured, despite the pounding pain in his legs and stomach from the kicks. However, he knew that he would be alright. 

Shortly after the morning meeting by the lockers they made their way to history class, and Cas found out that he not only was able to concentrate, but also welcomed the distraction from his mind. Listening to Mrs. Rowena going on and on about knights, priests and kings was something he could handle, something he had done a hundred times before. 

After lunch it was time for literature, the only subject Cas didn’t share with any of his classmates. When he had taken his seat in the classroom, somewhere in the left center, Dean strolled through the door, book in his hand and a neutral expression that turned into a lopsided grin as he spotted Cas. He pulled out the chair next to him with an obnoxious sound that even Mrs. Johnson raised an eyebrow at. 

“Good day to you too, Winchester.”

“Just trying out the new mufflers for the chairs, ma’am. They are working just fine.” A mutual chuckle spread through the room, Mrs. Johnson smiling as she stood up. Before she had time to start the lesson Zach walked inside, casting a murderous look at Cas that would have made Dean jump out of his chair if Cas hadn’t reacted in time and restrained him. He shook his head fiercely, Dean only yielding after inconspicuously flipping Zach off. 

“Alright! If you two drama queens are settled in we can begin,” Mrs. Johnson announced, Dean lowering his head as if to show that he was done. “Those of you who have finished your books can answer the questions and make a first draft of your analyzing essays. The rest of you, get reading.” 

Cas had no trouble burying his nose in his previously discarded book, flipping through almost the entire book during the short lesson alone. He cast an occasional glance in Dean’s direction, finding him in the same position every time with _Ivanhoe_ opened at the first page, however his eyes were staring blankly out the window. With a pang of compassion Cas realized that Dean was doing the exact same thing that Cas had set out to do on his first day back: to sit along during the lessons to ease back into the life as a student. For some reason Cas had managed to take it a step further.

Cas quickly fell back into the routine of Graham’s High School, actually enjoying himself again despite being surrounded by a constant numbness. He told himself that it would disappear with time, refusing to admit that it was only growing stronger. 

He talked to his friends, was active during the lessons, but it all seemed distant, as if he wasn’t really living through it. Dean’s struggle was a little more visible, taking the form of violent outbreaks that left him in detention each and every day. Cas stopped by the library both Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon, finding Sam sitting alone by one of the windows. They spoke for a while, Sam clearly happy to see him. 

Cas chose not to mention how tired the youngest Winchester looked. He was just going to take it up with Dean instead. 

On Thursday afternoon neither Dean nor Sam were anywhere to be found, so Cas presumed that they had gone home. He stopped by his house to leave his school bag and pick up Bucky, before steering them to Storer Avenue and the grey little house with the cracked window. He knocked on the door, only then hearing the raised voices from inside that gradually grew quiet. 

Bucky impatiently sniffed around on the porch, going as far as the leash would reach before returning to Cas’s side with a defeated look. Cas was just kneeling beside him to give him some well-deserved attention when the door opened, at first just a crack, but then wide enough to reveal the person inside. 

“Hey,” Cas greeted, waiting for Dean to let him in. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean hissed instead, looking back over his shoulder with worried eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you all day, I figured I could stop by-“

“Look, Cas, now’s really not a good time.”

“Oh,” Cas mumbled, unconsciously taking a step back. “That’s okay, I was just passing by to ask you if you wanted to join me for a walk. But it’s alright, some other time maybe.” Cas had started to descend the steps leading up to the porch, Dean slinking outside to follow him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, boldly taking Cas’s hand and placing a kiss on it. 

“It’s okay. I understand.” Cas squeezed the surprisingly warm hand, watching their intertwined fingers. 

Dean took a quick step towards him, effectively discarding anything that was labeled as ‘personal space’. 

“I could come to your place sometime,” Dean suggested, his lips dangerously close to Cas’s blushing cheeks. 

“Sounds good,” he breathed, as Dean softly pressed his lips against Cas’s. 

“I’ll send you a text,” Dean chuckled as he pulled away, returning to his house without another word. 

Cas’s steps were feather-light on his way back home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is from Dean's POV, I hope you liiiikeeee iiiiiiiit xx
> 
> See end notes for warnings!

Dean leaned back against the front door after closing it.  


He had just _kissed_ Cas. Funny, gorgeous Cas that was so clueless as to why Dean was obsessed with him that it was laughable.   


The deafening sound of glass breaking successfully removed every thought of Cas, and Dean warily shot a look towards the kitchen.   


John Winchester had seen better days. The attack two weeks earlier had left him with a bullet lodged in the bone of his lower left leg, a considerate amount of cuts and bruises and a temper that could match the devil’s.   


Dean and Sam’s dad had never been what you would call a responsible single father, and there were days when Dean was sure the guy was so drunk he didn’t even know that he _had_ children.   


The main difference between Dean and Sam was that Dean figured it was his task to keep them safe, something he had been doing every day during the five years since his mother had died. He cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, and made sure John didn’t drink up the entire life insurance payments. Both Sam and Jo had pulled their weight in the household as well, of course, but it always came down to Dean when decisions were to be made.   


A result of the responsibility, that Dean actually was grateful for, was the fact that every mistake, every accident, every dropped plate and burned meal was ultimately his fault. He could easily lay the blame on himself, ensuring his siblings’ safety.   


John could be quite violent when he’d had a few drinks, and unfortunately he was drunk on a regular basis.   


Dean stepped away from the door just as Sam’s head popped out from his room.   


“Who was it?” he whispered, wincing as another crash echoed through the house.   


“Cas,” Dean replied, pushing his little brother’s cold fingers away from the door to close it.   


“Don’t go in there, please.”  


“It’s alright, kid. Dad was just talking when Cas knocked, he’ll want to finish.”  


“Please. Just stay in here with me instead until he passes out.” Dean swallowed, doing his best to resist Sam’s pleads. He ruffled his hair and managed a smile.   


“Lock the door,” he mumbled, giving his brother an encouraging nod before returning to the kitchen.   


“Who was it?” John slurred as Dean entered the room. A million shards of glass, that had previously been a bottle, were scattered across the floor. Grabbing the broom underneath the kitchen island, Dean began to sweep the floor as he replied.   


“Just some salesman.”   


“Well, what did he want?”  


“He wanted to sell some shit, that’s what.” Dean tensed, knowing that he shouldn’t have raised his voice but he had gone ahead and done it anyway. John’s burning stare seemed to leave permanent marks on Dean’s skin, but no threats were thrown in his direction.   


“I need you to run an errand for Asmodeus tonight. I would have done it myself, but my damn leg is still sore.” Dean’s blood ran cold, for other reasons than the temperature in the kitchen. He knew that refusing his father’s demand was pointless, he knew that John would get mad, but he couldn’t stop himself.   


“Tonight? Why do I have to do it?” He had stopped sweeping the floor for a moment to face his dad, which meant that the only thing dividing the two of them was the kitchen island. John could reach Dean in a heartbeat, injured leg or not.   


“Because I fucking said so, that’s why! Don’t think for one second that I don’t know what happened last Thursday, you fucking disgrace.”   
That was a low blow, even for John, but he was so riled up that he didn’t realize it. He heaved his two meter tall mountain of a body into a standing position, approaching Dean slowly.   


“It wasn’t my fault,” Dean cried, his every instinct telling him to increase the distance to his father, but there was glass on the floor between him and the door.   


“I told you to get them out of there, get them to the car and then return to back me up. You couldn’t make her stay behind, because she didn’t respect you enough to listen! And now she’s-“ a sob escaped him, a strangled, disturbing sound, “-she’s dead! And it’s your fault!”   


Dean couldn’t really defend himself against his father’s accusations, because the words made sense. He’d told Jo and Sam to stay in the car before going back to his father. However, his curious siblings had followed him, and when Dean had been jumped by a guy twice his size, Jo had run screaming towards him.   


Dean could still hear the gunshots, repeated again and again as they bounced off the concrete walls of the buildings in the alley. He could still see Jo drop to the ground, blonde hair surrounding her face when Sam cradled her head in his arms.   


A fist connecting with Dean’s cheek was all it took to bring him back to the present. His head turned from the blow and he swung around, barely able to stop himself from toppling forwards when two hands pushed against his back, succeeding in making him lose his balance completely.   
Pulling his arms up to cover his face was Dean’s first impulse in any situation, but when the floor approached him with alarming speed he realized that it would be better to cushion the fall by using his hands. The delay from processing the thoughts was enough for Dean to hit the floor before having time to decide how he could make the landing as gentle as possible.   


His right hand connected with the floor first, effectively reminding him of the sea of glass there as it dug into his palm. Sharp dots of pain spread across his body as he recovered from getting the wind knocked out of him, like hundreds of knives sticking into his flesh. With gritted teeth he turned to his side, pulling his legs up unconsciously. He took a gasping breath, whimpering as he slowly became aware of the amount of glass that had pierced his skin.   


“11pm at Asmodeus’s, tonight. You know the ‘or else’,” John announced, moving Dean’s limp head with his boot before stepping right next to it, the impact making a few pieces of glass jump.   


Only when the footsteps had gone upstairs and the house had grown quiet did Dean begin the slow process of standing up. When he used his hand to push himself up he cried out from the pain, when he placed his feet on the floor he felt nauseous. Once he was standing he got a look at the almost comical outline of his own body on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass.   


Never, _never_ in the five years since his mother’s death had John done something like this. It didn’t matter if it was intentional or not, he might as well have stabbed Dean with the broken bottle. Dean was seriously injured, a fact he first comprehended as the overpowering pain pounded in his temples. Bruises were bearable, and Dean could deal with a broken rib or two. Hundreds of cuts all over his body? That was a new level of abuse that John had not stooped to before.   


_Not before his daughter was murdered_ , Dean thought, astonished that he was even able to form a single thought in his mind.   
Limping to the bathroom, Dean both hoped and dreaded that Sam would come out of his room and offer him some sort of comfort. However his brother’s door remained closed, and Dean locked the bathroom door behind him once he had made his way through it in case John was ready for a second round.   
He searched through shelves and cupboardsuntil he located a tweezer, refusing to register the pounding pulse underneath his skin. With shaking hands he turned the lights on and brought his right hand closer to his face to make out the pieces of glass. Finding one that was relatively close to the surface of his skin, he somehow managed to pull it out, the pain intensifying to an unbearable level. Dean turned around towards the toilet, where he remained doubled over until he threw up, the nausea overpowering every part of his being.   


“Dean,” Sam called quietly, knocking on the door. “Are you alright?” Dean laughed shallowly because no, he was as far from alright as he could possibly be.   


“Leave me alone,” he whimpered, throwing up again just from the sound of his own voice. He knelt in front of the toilet seat and pressed his forehead against the cold porcelain, completely oblivious of the pain in his knees and the sound of the lock being picked.   


“Come on, sit down,” Sam soothed, grabbing Dean’s shoulders to steer him into a sitting position on the edge of the bathtub. Dean watched him pick up the tweezers from the floor, but then his skin was on fire and he closed his eyes to hold back the next round of nausea. He registered that Sam was speaking, and without listening he knew that he was asking what had set John off this time – however it didn’t matter, because there would always be something. Always something he had to be punished for.   


Fingers curled around Dean’s wrist, lifting it to a height where the kid could work on picking out the glass without getting an aching back. The image of an old Sam standing straight was enough for Dean to be able to keep his hand up. He could do that one small thing.   


To say that it hurt when Sam picked out the shards of glass would be the understatement of the year. After a few minutes the pain reached a level that caused Dean to throw up for the third time, upon which Sam had to stop working to let Dean recover.   


“You know what I think-“  


“I think you should shut up,” Dean bit off, already raising his hand towards him again. He forced himself to not think about the hours of agony that lay ahead of him.   


“I won’t be able to get all the glass out. You should really go to a hospital.”   


“Sammy,” Dean whispered, his eyes pleading. “You know why I can’t. Just do your best. I’ll live.”   


Sam swallowed hard, but nodded solemnly. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his brother, which Dean was way too aware of. Even if that meant not taking him to the hospital because then they wouldn’t have enough money to buy food.  


Dean knew that he had enough evidence against his father to lock him up in prison for the rest of his life. What he also knew, however, was that because of his own time in prison Sam would be sent off to a foster home, which could be on the other side of the country. No matter how much Dean loved his brother and wanted what was best for him, he couldn’t do that to them: he couldn’t let them split up, especially after Jo.   


Sam continued the slow process of removing the glass from Dean’s hands, which Dean endured heroically. Half an hour after finding his brother on the bathroom floor, Sam made him stand up to help him take off his long-sleeved shirt. Dean’s pulse immediately quickened, as it always did when his upper body was naked, but he forced himself to keep his breath steady, reminding himself that Sam had already seen him enough times to know the scars as well as Dean did. However, the true story behind them was one that Dean had hidden from everyone, including Sam.   


During his time in prison, Dean’s habit of being too smug for his own good had rewarded him with a lot of enemies. The oblivious guards combined with inmates whose temper could match John’s had resulted in Dean being held down in the kitchen, where boiling water had been poured over his torso until his skin was covered in blisters and his insides were practically on fire. The prison’s poor excuse of a doctor had claimed that he was overreacting, and discarded him regardless of his spiking fever and burned off skin.   


Despite the burns and the abuse and being afraid of his own shadow, the only thing Dean told Sam about prison were lies about how it was just like school without homework. Because Sam couldn’t know.   


The constant reminder of the fear were the irregular red and white islands of scar tissue that covered Dean’s stomach and back, up on the right side and center of his chest and on his right arm. He hated them, hated what they represented, hated the phantom pains that would flare up whenever he was in distress.   


Casting a glance at his body was enough for him to close his eyes and hope that he wouldn’t faint. Sam was scanning his body too, but for different reasons.   


“Can’t see any blood, the shirt must have protected you. Take your pants off.”  


“Why don’t you do it yourself,” Dean groaned, unable to not make a joke, however he unbuckled his belt and let the jeans drop to the floor, pleased at the realization that his legs were uninjured. He knew that there was glass stuck in his chest and his shoulder, but he chose not to mention that to Sam, since he wouldn’t be able to get it all out anyways.   


Sam carefully moved to Dean’s face instead, making him sit down again. He had glass in his cheek, his neck and his scalp, but after another session of nearly fainting and screaming out in pain Sam actually got all of it out.   


“Still think you should go to the hospital,” he muttered as Dean slowly put his clothes on again, his hands feeling as if someone had run them through a meat grinder. When he was dressed Sam wrapped bandage around his hands, put a few Band-Aids on his face and ended up taking Dean’s place on the edge of the bathtub as the older brother slumped on the closed toilet seat, exhausted from being in constant pain for so long.  


“I hate him,” Sam said at last, and there was no doubting who he was referring to.   


“Don’t. Don’t hate him. He’s sick.”  


“No, he’s mental-“  


“I’m serious.” Dean had reached over to grab Sam’s arm, despite the revolting pain that followed. “He’s an alcoholic, a drug addict and an asshole, but he’s still our dad.”  


“I really wished he wasn’t. He shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like that.”  


“It’s alright, kid. I’ll be fine.” Dean wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure his brother or himself when he said that.  


The two brothers fled to Sam’s room, since his door was sturdier than Dean’s, where they fell asleep on the cool bed. Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean’s bicep, like he had always done since they were little. 

 

Dean’s internal alarm clock woke him up at 8pm, and he quietly scrambled out of bed, waking Sam up so he could lock the door once Dean had left.   
The corridor was colder than Sam’s room, and as Dean reached the front door he had to grab the door frame to steady himself for a few minutes. Once he could stand on his feet and the world wasn’t spinning around him anymore, he opened the door without a single creak and walked into the pitch black night.   


If Storer Avenue was an eerie place during the day, it was nothing compared to how it was when the sun had gone down. A chill that wasn’t entirely caused by the weather spread deep inside Dean, causing him to shudder and pull his jacket a little tighter around himself.   


There were still three hours left until he was due at Asmodeus’s, but he couldn’t spend another second inside their house. Sam didn’t mind being at home, because he knew that Dean would protect him. Unfortunately, Dean didn’t have anyone to do the same for him.   


He found himself steering towards the shopping mall in Ashbury Towers, both hoping and dreading that some of his friends would be there. Calling them “friends” was something Dean did out of pure habit, since he barely knew why he bothered to hang out with them anyways. It had become something of a habit as well.   


The abandoned shopping mall was a result of a large investment made by one of Cleveland’s wealthiest men in an attempt at making the area more appealing. However, with a fairly large Wal-Mart nearby, the mall had been forced to shut down after two years. Now, it was nothing but an empty shell with various furniture left in some of the stores.   


Gordon Walker, one of the five guys in Dean’s group of ”friends”, had stolen a spare key from his mother, who had worked as a cleaning lady at the mall before it closed. The first time they went there they had all been scared to death but refused to admit it, but now, two years later, it was no different from spending time at someone’s house. Each and every day they took the bus out there, except for Travis, who lived nearby.   


Crowley MacLeod welcomed him by offering him a cigarette as he walked into the old Nike store. He took the cigarette with a nod, fishing a lighter out of his pocket before sitting down in an armchair they had dragged there from the neighboring Starbucks.   


Taking a drag of the cigarette, Dean scanned the people surrounding him. Crowley was there, the clear leader of the group and the only one that Dean could stand talking to for more than five minutes. Gordon was lying on the floor next to him, either passed out or sleeping, Dean couldn’t tell which. Boris and Travis Jones, who were in fact not siblings but had pretended to be so since they were first put in the same class, sat in an armchair each, talking nonsense. They were a bunch of low-graded troublemakers, but, for now, the only group of friends Dean had.  


“How you doing Dean? Looking a little pale there,” Crowley stated out of the blue. Dean shrugged, holding up his hand with the cigarette stuck between his lips.   


“Had a run-in with dad.”  


“So the old man’s back from the hospital?” Dean, who was beginning to regain memories from a night when he had been way too drunk and way too talkative, shrugged again.   


“Picked him up at noon.”  


“Explains why you weren’t in school,” Crowley said absently to himself, pulling smoke into his lungs before letting it out through his nose.   


“Why were he in the hospital?” Boris chimed in, Travis slapping him on the head and hissing “was” at him.   


“Dude, you must have heard what happened last week?” Crowley scoffed, eyes growing two sizes as Travis and Boris shook their head in sync. Crowley glanced at Dean, who gestured towards him.   


“The stage is yours man, I’m not going to go through it again.”   


“So you know how John Winchester is this big-ass drug dealer?” Crowley began, and Dean gradually tuned out his voice. Just like he had said, it was bad enough having to live through it once.   


As the clock was getting nearer 11pm, Dean decided it was time to go and waved a goodbye to his friends. Crowley got to his feet, however, saying that he would follow him out. Once they were back on the first floor, he pulled out another cigarette and put it between his lips.   


“Are you doing alright?” he asked, voice dead serious compared to its usual haughtiness.   


“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”  


“Just that I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you show up with half your skin ripped off. Talk to me.” Dean was stunned by the sudden show of compassion, and rubbed the back of his neck slowly.   


“Dad’s been in a mood since Jo, but it’s understandable. I’ve just been real busy taking care of Sammy.”  


“I get it, of course I do. Worst week of your life and all… Just promise I’ll hear from you soon? I need some brain capacity to help me handle these guys,” Crowley grinned, nodding towards the stairs they had descended. Dean watched him wearily as he lit the cigarette. He trusted Crowley, trusted him enough to let him in on every secret of the Winchester family. However, there was another life involved now, besides his own: Cas’s. And despite trusting the guy, Dean had never really liked him. They were just too different.   


Crowley had never really gone after Cas like the jocks did, but he had been all too clear on what he thought about him and the fact that he had been hanging out a lot with Jo. It had been Crowley who had first planted the idea that Cas and Jo might have been a couple in Dean’s mind. Crowley who had made fun of Cas after Gordon had suggested that he was gay, a fact that Dean had promptly objected to – he had been sure that Cas was dating his sister.   
Dean rarely stopped his friends from name-calling and discrimination, but he would not tolerate the homophobic phrases that sometimes came up (for obvious reasons). It would be impossible for him to change them into accepting, respectable men, but at least he could do something: he could give them a reason not to hate on queers.  


The term “faggot” had been permanently erased from their mutual vocabulary in one afternoon when Dean had explained what bisexual meant and that he was one. He was rather proud of their immediate acceptance, and had never been treated differently because of his sexual orientation.  


Crowley said goodbye to Dean with a handshake, and soon Dean was on his way to the place he probably hated most in the entire world.   


He walked the four blocks to Field Avenue, knowing the white bungalow all too well as he approached it. The front yard was occupied by shells of cars with weeds growing through the rusted floors, the only car that really worked being an old blue Chevrolet pickup. The house itself was similar to the Winchester’s, with a few broken windows and boards that screamed for a new coat of paint.   


Every step was agony for Dean, every movement shooting pain through his wrecked body, but he knew that it would get so much worse if he went home again, so he soldiered on.   


He rapped three times on the door, and immediately a voice said, “Who is it?”   


“It’s the fucking Queen of England, moron. Dean Winchester.” Dean rolled his eyes as the door opened and he was let inside.   


“He’s expecting John,” the door guard revealed, whom Dean vaguely recognized but wasn’t quite able to match with a name. He followed the guard deeper into the dark house, being left by a large brown door. His knock was followed by a voice calling at him to come in. Dean braced himself and opened the door.   


Asmodeus’s living room was like something out of a Tarantino movie. The walls were covered with brown wood panels, and around the room there were couches and desks, all in the same dark, thick brown color. In the middle of the room, with his back facing Dean, stood Asmodeus, wearing the same neat suit as always in spite of it being close to midnight.  


“Dean,” he greeted while turning around, taking a long drag of the cigar in his hand and scrutinizing him closely. “I thought I’d made it clear when I told your papa that I wanted his help tonight, not his son’s.”  


“He hasn’t recovered from his injuries yet,” Dean explained, holding his breath as a wave of pain rushed through his hands, spreading up his arms in a way that made them feel disquietingly numb.   


“Well, then I guess I don’t have a choice. I’ve got two hectograms for Lisa, to be delivered before midnight. You know the drill, so get going.”  
Dean thought about his father, his brother, he thought about Cas and the fact that he hadn’t realized what he was about to do up until that very moment. Two books were placed in his hands, books that Dean knew contained enough cocaine to get him sent to prison again, probably for more than one year this time around since he wasn’t just helping his dad. He had been driving John around to different locations in Cleveland for years, but he had never handled the drugs himself. Agreeing to deliver the drugs to Lisa Braeden was crossing a line, and Dean knew it.  


He also knew that if Asmodeus didn’t kill him for refusing, John would make him wish that he had.   


Listlessly, Dean left Asmodeus’s house, walking the three blocks to the garage where Asmodeus kept cars for his dealers to use. He listened to himself as he told the guard that he needed a car, and received the keys shortly after.   


He drove the thirty kilometers to Lisa’s house, knowing too well where Asmodeus’s customers lived. A meekly lit path led him to the front door of Lisa Braeden’s mansion, and he was let inside by yet another security guard. Ironic that Cleveland’s criminals had set up their own security system.   


“Dean!” a voice exclaimed, and Dean watched as Lisa’s slender form descended the left of the twin staircases. The woman was in her late twenties, with lush dark hair and deep rings underneath her eyes that made her look like she was fighting off some disease.   


“Lisa,” Dean greeted, pulling out the books. “Delivery from Asmodeus.”  


“Oh, thank you dear, I was beginning to think he had forgotten about me. However I was expecting your father.” She handed him a bundle of dollar bills in exchange for the books, which Dean quickly counted.   


“John wasn’t available tonight. Thank you.” He nodded in her direction, trying his best to reach the door but she had put her arms around his shoulders and was pulling him towards the salon.   


“You just got here, my dear, stay for a drink.”  


“I should really get going-“  


“Just one drink,” she insisted, and since Dean knew better than to refuse he pushed away the pain in his hands for later and followed the unstable woman into a room where half a dozen people were lounging, some of them openly snorting on the sofa table.   


Dean accepted the glass that he was offered, and took a sip, fully aware of the fact that he had no idea if someone had put something besides alcohol in it. The drink burned in his throat but at least it helped soothe the worst of the pain. He leaned against the bar, absently scanning the people in the room. Soon he was rejoined by Lisa, however, and she pressed her body flush towards his.  


“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” she stated, slowly running her cold fingers along his jaw.   


“I’ve been in prison.”   


“Is that so?” She was close to him now, probably closer than he should have allowed, but he was used to her clinginess and knew that she was high on whatever drug she had taken last. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really mind. He had had the worst night in a long time, and the feeling of her cold, soft skin successfully distracted him.   


“I guess we ought to make up for lost time then,” she whispered, and then she kissed him, hungrily, bringing both hands up to his face.  
Dean remembered thinking _what the hell_ , before he returned the favor, grabbing her bony hips and taking control. Without breaking the kiss they made their way to the adjacent room, where Lisa’s dress was quickly discarded along with Dean’s pants. He firmly stopped her every attempt at taking his shirt off as well, and in the end she simply shrugged and touched his back through the fabric.   


He knew that sleeping with her would be a mistake, but he also knew that his feelings were a mess and she was offering something he hadn’t experienced in a long time, too long: closeness. Being intimate with another person. She began removing her underwear, and then he knew that he had gone too far to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings  
> -There's a lot of blood and gore in this chapter (Sorry).   
> -Graphic depictions of violence  
> -Abusive parent (3 guesses who)  
> -Mention of previous violence  
> -Burns/scars  
> -Vomiting  
> -Pain  
> -Drugs, drug dealing, and use of drugs


	9. Chapter 9

Dean returned home at some unearthly hour in the morning. He stumbled into the house, making enough noise to wake John but drunk enough to not care. With a short laugh he put the money Asmodeus had given him in the top left drawer of the closet in the hallway, where he was pleased to see that his dad hadn’t wasted all the savings on booze and cocaine yet. 

Dean fell asleep on his bed just as Sam’s alarm went off. 

“Dean! Dean!” His brother’s voice reached Dean’s ears, but it sounded distant, as if he was at the bottom of a well. He swatted away the cold hand that touched his forehead, mumbling incomprehensibly. 

“You’re burning up,” the voice called. It was screaming and whispering at the same time. Hammering on his temples. “I’ll tell Mrs. Rowena that you’re sick. Just sleep and don’t get into trouble.” 

Sleep. Yes, sleep was good. Silence surrounded him as the door was closed, and he gradually drifted off to the land of dreams. He dreamt of illegal books, bullets biting concrete, and chasing the lips of a dark-haired boy on a dark-haired woman. 

_Waiting for the one_  
The day that never comes  
When you stand up and feel the warmth  
But the sunshine never comes

Dean woke with a start, and was greeted by a magnificent headache. He reached blindly for his phone, only realizing that someone was calling him once he recognized the song he had set as a signal. Without checking who was calling he pressed the green button, mumbling something that at least resembled ‘What do you want’, because no one but Sam ever called him. 

“I’m going to Mike’s after school, if that’s alright,” Sam said, not phrasing it as the question that they both knew he was asking. 

“O’course. What time is it?” Dean muttered, hearing his brother’s grin through the phone. 

“It’s noon.” Sam paused before adding, “were you sleeping?”

“I’m catching up from being awake last night.” 

“How are you feeling? Has the fever gone down?” Dean took a moment to consider that, and found that he was, if it was even possible, feeling worse than he had that morning. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, smiling softly as he pictured Sam rolling his eyes. They really were disturbingly close to each other. 

“Anyways, I ran into Cas, and he was really worried.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I just said that you were sick, chill.” Dean relaxed, not even noticing how he’d tensed up. 

“Alright. I’ll see you tonight, call me if you need me.”

“Go back to sleep, you sound like shit.” 

“Thanks, kid.” 

Dean felt drowsy for other reasons than the amount of whiskey he had poured down his throat the night before. He made an attempt at sitting up, but just that slight movement rocked his brain and sent him tumbling back into a vertical position. He told himself that he just needed to sleep it off, and closed his eyes. 

Scattered thoughts floated just out of Dean’s reach, and every time he tried to hold on to one it just seemed to move further and further away. Consciousness came and went irregularly, and soon Dean couldn’t quite make out whether he was awake or not. His limbs refused to cooperate, his eyes could only see darkness, green walls and Cas.

Just the thought of Cas was enough for the nausea to return. He’d slept with Lisa. How was he supposed to face Cas after that? He knew that they weren’t exactly together, but he had hoped that they could be, some day. Those chances seemed pretty damn slim now, after what he had done. 

Cas was suddenly everywhere, screaming, frowning, asking, laughing. But Cas didn’t laugh, he didn’t even smile. Not since the bullets had made holes for Jo’s life to flow out of. 

A sharp pain bit his cheek, and he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure because he was still seeing Cas. He could even hear his voice.   
He could make out the shape of his friend as he leaned over him, hands on his shoulders shaking him gently. This was real. Cas was there. 

Dean was awake. 

“Hey, can you hear me?”

“Why are you in my room?” Dean slurred, trying to sit up but failing to do so. 

“I’ve been knocking on your door for the last twenty minutes, but no one answered so I let myself in. Sam said you were home sick and I wanted to see how you were feeling.” Feeling a pain in his cheek that hadn’t been there before, Dean frowned and gave Cas a murderous look. 

“Did you just bitch slap me?”

“You weren’t reacting when I tried to wake you.” 

“You can’t be here,” Dean mumbled, mind clearing up enough to see Cas’s concerned eyes. He steeled himself and pushed his body up so he was sitting, the world spinning around him as the edges of his vision began to go dark. 

“Whoa, take it easy,” Cas exclaimed, putting one hand on his back and one on his chest to steady him. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.” 

“NO!” Dean burst, shaking his head violently. “No hospitals.” 

“You’re white as a ghost.” 

“I’m fine.” He could register the motion Cas made as he checked his wrist watch, along with the relief on his face that followed. 

“Jody’s a doctor, I’ll ask her to come over.”

“Not here,” Dean winced, feeling the pain return. “He’s upstairs.”

“Who’s upstairs?”

“You can’t be here.” Cas pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear in a flash. Dean watched him lethargically, unable to stop him even if he had known what he was doing.

“Hey, can you pick us up? Dean’s really sick, and he doesn’t want to stay at his house.” Cas paused before adding, “we’re at West 50 th Street, 3415. The grey house.” Dean watched him end the call and smiled wanly at him.

“So you’re taking me home?” 

“I am.” Dean fumbled for his fingers, forgetting all about concealing bandages and wounds, only remembering it when Cas tensed next to him. He quickly pulled his hands back, hiding them underneath the blanket that was still draped around his lower body. With a swift motion Cas pulled the blanket away, doing a double take as he saw the state of Dean’s bed.

Dean had been too out of it to notice that the wounds on his hands had begun to bleed, leaving red spots all over his sheets. The bandages were still in place, however they were now soaked with blood. 

“What the hell happened?” Cas breathed, cradling an injured hand in his own. 

“I fell on some glass, it’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Dean-“

“Please, just leave it.” Dean had sobered up quite a bit by now, and he was already distancing himself from Cas. They sat in a stubborn silence that was interrupted a few minutes later by a soft knock on the door, and Cas helped Dean to his feet, leading him out of his room. 

“Hello, is this the Winchester-“ Jody had opened the door, her voice fading as she spotted Cas with the semi-unconscious Dean by his side. “This was not what I expected when I drove over here,” she remarked, and Dean had to laugh at her expression. Cas led him all the way to his aunt, where he helped him put on a pair of shoes while Jody took over the task of keeping him from falling to the ground. 

“I’m Dean,” he grinned, Jody shaking her head at his inability to take the situation seriously. 

“Cas has told me a lot about you, but he never mentioned your good looks,” she teased back, however when she spotted his hands her eyes turned serious. “Or the meatballs you have for hands,” she mumbled, immediately elevating his hands. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

Jody proved to be a lot more bossy than Cas had made her seem, but Dean truly didn’t mind. The way she fussed about him without making him feel like he was being babied with was something he welcomed, mostly because of how it reminded him of his mother. Cas took over holding his hands high on the ride to West 52 nd street, which put them close together in the back of the car. Dean did everything in his power to cherish the feeling of Cas’s skin against his. It helped him battle most of the pain. 

It took Cas’s and Jody’s united strength to get Dean out of the car and inside the house, and once he was finally inside they half-carried him to the bathroom. He found himself sitting on a rickety chair in the blue-tiled room, Jody on her knees in front of him as she unwound the bandages around his hands. 

He watched her absently as she examined the wounds, not really prepared for the sudden explosion of pain as she placed his hands underneath the tap to rinse the blood off. 

“FUCK!” he exclaimed, trying to pull his hands back but Jody’s grip was strong.

“Stop struggling and I’ll be done quicker,” she snapped, and going against every fiber in his body Dean relaxed. He cried out as she turned the water off, not knowing if it was from relief or pain. 

Cas had ended up hovering by the door, which meant that he was standing behind Dean and could only really see his messed up hands. Dean could feel his presence, though, and it was enough for him to settle down as Jody pulled out a pair of tweezers to finish Sam’s job. 

“Did you get the rest out yourself?” she asked, dropping a shard of glass in the bin underneath the sink.

“Sam,” he managed to get out.

“That’s his brother,” Cas added, Dean immensely grateful that he was there to answer for him.

Jody pulled out some gauze that she asked Cas to press against the wounds, then she wrapped a fresh bandage tightly around Dean’s hands. When she had finished she caught Dean’s eyes, forcing him to face her.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, but all Dean did in response was share a look with Cas, who understood. 

“He told me he fell on some glass,” he explained, Jody still observing Dean. 

“If that’s the case, I’d like to make sure that there aren’t any more shards left in your body, okay? Can you take your shirt off?” Cas was once again standing behind Dean, so he couldn’t see the sheer panic that flashed into his eyes at the request, however Jody did. 

“Cas, why don’t you go on a run to the store and get some ice cream? I have a feeling we’ll all need some when I’m done.”

“Uh, I guess I could, if it’s alright with you, Dean?”

“It’s alright,” Dean said quietly, but loud enough for Cas to hear. He lingered on the threshold for a few moments, before they could hear his footsteps going down the hallway. Once the front door had been closed Dean gave Jody an appreciative look.

“Thank you,” he breathed, reaching for the neck of his long-sleeved shirt with a wince. It took Jody a split second to notice his increased discomfort, and she quickly swatted his hands away to help him. A flash of one of the scars was enough for her to hesitate. Dean noticed and chuckled dimly. “It gets a whole lot prettier than that, so feel free to continue.” He thought he could see the corners of her mouth twitch a little, but he wasn’t sure. 

In a flash his chest was bare, and the air that hit his skin was like an electric shock. He felt cold, for other reasons than the temperature in the house. No matter how much he joked about it, showing his scars was not something he was comfortable with, not even to a doctor. Words like “freak” and “monster” pounded on his temples, and he recoiled as Jody softly grabbed his wrist.

“Those are some serious burns,” she stated, but the look on her face wasn’t pitiful – it was curious. Dean felt himself taking one tiny step towards trusting this woman.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

He didn’t trust her that much, however. 

“I swam through a lake of lava.” Jody rolled her eyes and met his guarded gaze, sighing at his lie. 

“Not very clever, if you ask me,” she scoffed, and Dean smiled weakly in response, relaxing his tense muscles. 

“You could say that.” She cast one last glance at the scars before moving to his left shoulder, that had taken the worst hit and apparently held enough shards for Jody to get stuck there for a while. She chatted to distract him from what she was doing, which led to them discovering their shared passion for music. Once the last three shards had been removed from his feet, Jody fetched a glass of orange juice and a banana for him, which made him realize just how hungry he was.

While Dean ate Jody cleaned up the bathroom, and then ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat, her chin resting on her hands. 

“Are you planning on telling me what happened?” she asked at last, Dean nervously fidgeting with the edge of the bandage on his left hand. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Like hell you don’t. I saw all the empty bottles, and you reek of alcohol. Did you know that it works as a blood thinner?”

“What, booze?”

“Yes. It’s the reason you’re so disoriented. You lost a lot of blood.” While Dean processed that fact, Jody formed another statement. 

“I’ve lived in this town for a long time, Dean, and I know your dad from his monthly visits to the ER. He’s given me more than one bruise over the years.” 

“You don’t know _anything_ about my dad.” 

“I know. And I’m not pretending like I do, I’m just telling you what I’ve observed, and that you’re going to have to give me a damn good reason to not call the police.”

Dean met her gaze, hoping that he would find a flippant smile, but Jody’s eyes were dead serious. He swallowed hard, trying to come up with some lie that would convince her, but he knew it was pointless. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this. Not even Cas, I’m begging you, don’t tell Cas.”

“I just want to know the truth. Now spill.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the wall beside him. Neither of them were going to enjoy what he was about to reveal.

“My dad is an alcoholic and a drug addict, and he gets really violent. I guess I just happen to be his favorite punching bag. I’ve tried to tell myself that I should report him for Sammy and Jo’s sake- well, just Sam now, I guess.” He could feel the tears burning behind his eyelids, and let out a sob as the first one escaped. After that, it was all downhill to drowning in salt water and gasping breaths. “If I call the police Sam’s going to be sent off to a foster home, and I can’t leave him, I just can’t.” Jody had kneeled beside him, rubbing a soothing hand over his arm. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to become his legal guardian?” Dean let out another sob, because it was so typical that his naivety and cockiness had removed every chance of distancing him and his brother from John. 

“I’ve got a criminal record, so they wouldn’t dream of signing him over to me.”

“Don’t you have some relative you could live with?” Dean shook his head in defeat. He’d already gone through the same questions that Jody was asking in his search for a way to get away from his dad. 

“The only one we know of lives on Ireland. She doesn’t exactly send us Christmas cards.” Jody sighed deeply, the lines on her forehead seemingly permanent. Dean just realized how much he had shared with her, all the fears and worries that he’d been carrying around for years. Despite not having known her for more than a few hours, he found himself daring to trust her. Getting his problems out in the open released an incredible burden from his shoulders, and he took a deep breath, finally feeling the bliss of the rush of oxygen. 

“Does he hurt Sam?” Dean gave her a shaky grin.

“He’s never gotten close enough to even try.” Jody nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not going to forget this, Dean. However, you are an adult, and I really don’t see what I can do that hasn’t already crossed your mind. I only hope that you’re not forgetting about the fact that your brother has to live through it as well. Are you keeping him away from foster parents for his sake, or your own?” 

“What if he ends up on the west coast?”

“He’ll never be more than a phone call away. I’m not telling you to do something drastic, I’m just asking you to reconsider. And there’s one more thing,” she paused, obviously conflicted with what she was about to say. 

“What’s that?”

“If you hurt my nephew, so help me god, I will send your ass straight back to jail. Are we clear?” Dean coughed, surprised by Jody’s sudden change of subject. She remained in the same position, looking calm and composed, and gave Dean a look that he couldn’t quite interpret. 

“Crystal,” he replied, Jody nodding shortly. 

“Good.” They fell silent, both lost in deep thought. 

“I won’t tell him,” Jody said at last, tilting her head in a familiar way. 

“I’d appreciate that.” As if on cue they could hear the sound of the front door opening, along with Cas’s voice as he urged Bucky to calm down.

“If you’re done there’s a lot of ice cream here that needs to be eaten,” Cas called, and then Dean and Jody shared a wide smile.

“Let’s go,” Jody chuckled, and helped Dean get to his feet. 

 

Cas insisted on driving Dean home, but there were no goodnight-kisses or last words before they parted. Dean was exhausted. His hands would start to pulsate sporadically, which was the catalyst that set off a chain reaction of pain in his body. With led clumps for feet he made his way up to the front door, waving a goodbye to Cas before stepping into the house. 

The sight that met him was one that he knew would stay in his dreams for a long time. Blood stained the carpet in the hallway, and tracks led into the kitchen and Dean’s room. Every thought of his own pain vanished as Dean took five long steps into the kitchen, where he found Sam trying to hold off John who was looming above him. Dean searched his brother for any injuries, but there were no visible wounds. He was looking a little frightened, but that was understandable considering John’s snarl. 

“Get the hell away from him!” Dean exclaimed, immediately going after his dad to make him release the grip he had on Sam. When John’s sluggish brain registered Dean’s presence, he turned to his oldest son and delivered a punch that momentarily blackened Dean’s vision. He blinked hard to refocus, gesturing at Sam to flee while he had the chance. 

“Can’t you even keep the house clean, boy?” John barked, stepping towards him. “I was just coming into the kitchen to grab a drink, and I stepped on glass!” Dean felt like laughing at the irony of the situation, with the deep wounds that were covering his hands, but he bit it back. 

“You’re the one who smashed it,” he snapped, so incredibly tired of having to fight, of always having to fight his father. He could sense the good-old doubt creeping into his mind, the one that convinced him that there was a reason he was being treated the way he was. John was punishing him for a reason, which meant that something was wrong with him. There had to be. 

“Come on, Dean,” Sam called to gain his attention, while pulling him out of the kitchen, away from their father who hadn’t noticed yet. Dean listlessly followed Sam into his room, where the younger brother locked the door and put his chair underneath the door handle as John began to pound on the wood. 

“Get out here before I break this door down,” he yelled, and Dean flinched at his voice.

Maybe he deserved to be punished.

“What happened? Where did he hurt you?” Dean scanned Sam’s body frantically, twisting his head to each side to check for blood.

“He didn’t hurt me, I’m alright.”

“But the blood… There’s so much blood,” Dean mumbled, still searching for a wound on his little brother.

“Dean, it’s your blood.” At that Dean stopped searching for wounds on his brother, and took an unsteady step backwards.

“All of that was my blood?”

“It’s mostly on the carpet in the hallway, we can get rid of it.”

“You’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright. Let’s go to bed,” Sam said softly, guiding Dean over to the single cot in the furthest corner of the room. They simultaneously pulled out their phones and headphones, plugging them in to shut out John’s violent knocking and his threats. Sam took the side of the bed closest to the wall, with Dean on his side next to him.

After a few minutes of Led Zeppelin Dean felt how Sam began to shift his position, and seconds later fingers found their way around Dean’s bicep. He smiled dimly to himself, wondering if he had it in him to risk sending his brother away to another family. 

Then his thoughts drifted to his sister. The way she had selflessly risked her own life to save Dean from a few bruises. He supposed that she had gotten fed up with watching her brother being beaten bloody after the five years that John had been dangerously violent. She was the kind of person that could never stand on the sidelines and watch people suffer, she always interfered to show exactly what her thoughts on violence were. 

Never in her life had she walked by someone getting hurt and abused without doing everything in her power to help. Dean admired her for that, for her deep will to do what she thought was right. To help make the world better. 

As much as he tried to blame it on himself, Dean knew that her death wasn’t his fault. John could berate him as much as he wanted, but it wouldn’t bring Jo back. Neither would burying himself in grief. Now that the initial shock of watching his sister die had passed, he was surprised at how at peace with it he felt. It was unfair, and it was a cruel world that they lived in, but Dean refused to stop fighting just because Jo was dead. He was going to try to be the person she had always known that he could be. 

That night, however, all he could do was alternate between waking from his own nightmares and getting Sam out of his. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the slow update xxx I will try to post the rest of it now!

Dean was surprised when he didn’t hear from Cas until Sunday evening. Of course the guy didn’t call or text like a sane person would, instead he walked the 3 kilometers in what had practically turned into a snowstorm. It did make it impossible for Dean to send him back home, however, so he let him in. 

John had disappeared Saturday night, the way he would do on a regular basis. If a miracle hadn’t happened to make his father go to a drug rehab center in Barcelona, or Paris, he was spending the weekend at Lisa’s, weekend stretching from Saturday to Tuesday. Dean and Sam really didn’t mind. 

“So, how are you feeling?” Cas asked as he stepped through the door, Dean a bit disappointed that he hadn’t brought Bucky along. 

“A lot better, tell your aunt I said thanks.”

“Sure.” They lingered in the hallway for a few moments, both unsure of what to say.

“So, what happened? There was a lot of glass.”

“I just dropped a bottle, you know, then I tripped and fell on the glass. No big deal.” The lie burned in Dean’s guts, because if there was one person he wanted to tell the truth to it was the guy standing in front of him. However, there was really no way to say the sentence “my dad punished me by pushing me down onto broken glass” without scaring him off. Dean had seen enough pitiful looks to know that it was better if no one knew. Not even Cas. 

“Dude, you are seriously clumsy,” Cas scoffed as Dean lead him to his room, cracking a smile at his words.

“Well, thank you Mr. ‘I tried not stepping on your feet’,” Dean teased, chuckling as Cas’s cheeks flushed.

“You remember that?”

“P.E. isn’t really your favorite subject, is it?”

“I like P.E., I just don’t like-“

“Doing anything that requires coordination?”

“I was going to say dancing.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean got lost in thought for a moment, wondering if Jody had told Cas about what had really happened. Would he even be there if she had? He would probably never want to see him again if he found out. 

“So, um, we need to talk,” Cas said suddenly, sitting down uncertainly on Dean’s bed. Dean swallowed hard, finding it extraordinarily difficult to breathe. He slumped on one of the chairs, which was really one he had taken from the kitchen, and began fiddling with the zipper on his sweatshirt. 

“I mean-“

“Look, I understand-“ They spoke simultaneously, Dean offering a grin as he stopped speaking. 

“You go first,” Cas urged, gesturing towards him. Dean worried his lip between his teeth, and took a deep breath. 

“I understand if you don’t want to see me again, after all that’s happened. It’s more than you signed up for when we agreed to be friends.”

“What?” Cas exclaimed, frowning and tilting his head. 

“We’ll probably bump into each other at school, but I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“What?” Cas repeated, and now Dean was getting a little annoyed. If Cas wanted a clean break, Dean was pretty much pouring it down his ears.

“I wanted to talk about the, uh, the kiss.” 

“Oh,” Dean sighed, then he considered what he had actually said and started to laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re killing me. I thought you wanted us to ‘break up’,” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers as he spoke. 

“If that’s what you want-“ Cas mumbled, and he somehow seemed to retreat into himself as he spoke. The hurt look on his face brought a terrible pain to Dean’s chest, and he stood, taking the two steps to his bed before kneeling in front of his friend.

“What I want is to be with you.” Cas looked up, hopeful but still cautious. Naturally, Dean did what he usually did when he needed to convince someone that he was telling the truth: through action rather than words. He stood up on his knees, his eyes ending up just below Cas’s. Tilting his head up so he could reach, Dean leaned in and pressed chapped lips against his. 

Similar to their first kiss, Cas froze up, his eyes still open. Dean gently nibbled on his lower lip, which spurred a reaction in him and made him surge forwards, nearly pushing Dean over. 

They kissed for a while, Dean sensing that Cas was a bit insecure, however he made up for that with his eagerness. As Cas grew more confident, he deepened the kiss, prodding at Dean’s lips with his tongue. With a grin Dean reciprocated, his hands somehow settling on Cas’s knees. He tugged gently on Cas’s lip again, and enticed a startled moan that made him crack a smile. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Dean breathed, pulling away just slightly to get a good look at Cas. 

“I, uh, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.”

“About the kiss?”

“Yeah,” Cas sighed.

“As long as you weren’t going to tell me that you didn’t want to do it again, I think we’ll be fine.” Cas scoffed a smile at Dean’s words, and turned his gaze towards the floor. At first it didn’t seem like a big deal, because Dean smiled all the time and usually laughed a lot. However, he had not seen Cas smile since Jo died. He didn’t realize it at first, but when he thought back to every previous conversation he’d had with the guy, the one thing he could remember was that Dean had always been the one who laughed. Cas had made jokes and rolled his eyes at Dean’s attempts at being funny, but he hadn’t smiled. 

Not until now. 

“I’ve been missing out,” Dean said quietly, his lopsided grin back. 

“On what?” Cas spoke slowly, gradually moving his hands towards Dean’s. Dean swallowed as the soft fingers wrapped around his. 

“That smile,” he whispered, planting a kiss on the corner of Cas’s mouth. When he leaned back again Cas’s expression had turned wounded. 

“I haven’t smiled since…” He cut himself off, burying his face in his hands. Dean rubbed his hand on his back to soothe him, but was unsure of how much good it was doing. Cas seemed about ready to fall apart.

“It’s okay, at least you still remember how, right?” Dean chuckled, relief flooding his body as Cas straightened up again. With his hooded eyes and the hurt expression on his face he showed more emotions than he had done since Dean first talked to him that day when he had stood outside his front door.

“I think I used to laugh a lot, but now it just feels…”

“Wrong. I felt the same way at first, but do you want to know what changed my mind?” Cas nodded, a little crevice appearing between his eyebrows that Dean desperately wanted to smooth out. “I remembered all the times Jo made me smile, and realized that that was what she brought out in me: joy, happiness. So I’m going to laugh and smile until it kills me.” He ran his thumb across Cas’s jaw, letting it rest on his chin. With a wide grin he kissed him again.

When they broke free of the kiss, the smile was glued to Cas’s face. 

“I can get used to this.” 

 

Cas stayed a little while longer, during which there was not a lot of talking and quite a lot of touching. Sam somehow managed to interrupt them twice, and Dean’s every uncertainty about what his brother thought about bisexuality was crumbled as his first reaction was awwing and telling them to get a room (which Dean loudly pointed out that they had already done while Cas blushed furiously underneath him). Cas left after the sun had gone down, snowstorm still going strong outside. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright walking home by yourself?”

“For the eleventh time, yes.”

“It’s just-“ Dean carded his fingers through the few strands of hair that had escaped the edge of Cas’s beanie. 

“It’s what?”

“Well, it’s not the safest of neighborhoods,” Dean mumbled. 

“I’ll be alright,” Cas ensured him, grinning as Dean kissed the tip of his nose. 

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” One more feverish kiss, then he was out the door. 

 

When the Winchester brothers were alone once again, Sam searched the kitchen for something that could pass as dinner while Dean threw the last of his energy into finishing _Ivanhoe_. 

He had seen the movie, so he was familiar with the plot, but the words were difficult to decipher and he forgot each sentence as soon as he had read it. The questions they had received from Mrs. Johnson were not exactly boosting Dean’s confidence either, and by the time Sam yelled at him that dinner was ready he had only answered two out of the 10 questions on the list. 

“Did Cas get home?”

“He sent a text a while ago,” Dean replied, placing two forks and two knives on the table.

“How’s homework going?” Sam asked casually as they sat, plates of pasta and tomato sauce in front of them. Dean picked up a fork and began picking at the food, his brain telling him that he wasn’t hungry despite the growling pain in his stomach. 

“I should be asking you the same question,” he muttered, taking a bite for Sam’s sake. It was really tasty, but still the pasta made Dean’s insides turn. He put the fork back down. 

“Mr. Oliver is letting the entire class have two weeks with no homework, just to get time to refocus. You should eat.”

“Well, I have two tons of notes I need to read and learn, and there’s this essay in literature that’s supposed to be handed in tomorrow. I’m really not hungry,” he said with force, his stomach betraying him as it growled loudly. 

“Have you even started the essay?”

“I answered two questions?” Sam shook his head, checking the clock on the wall. 

“You’ve got a few good hours left, I can help you if you want.” 

“Just because you’ve got all the brains,” Dean teased, sticking his tongue out at his brother. They both knew he was right, however: Dean wasn’t stupid, but he was nothing compared to Sam when it came to getting homework done. 

“I’ll help you if you eat,” Sam mused, nodding towards his plate. “You have barely eaten anything in two days, remember what Jody-“

“Yeah, I remember what Jody told me, I was there. I’m just not hungry.”

“Eat, and you won’t get an F on this assignment.” Dean sighed in defeat. His brother had grown to become one hell of a negotiator. 

 

After a few more weak attempts at resisting to eat, Dean practically shoved the food down his throat, his plate cleared before Sam had taken more than two bites. Once they had both finished they went to Dean’s room, where the rest of the night was spent scrapping together a decent essay about _Ivanhoe_. Dean was quite pleased with the result, and watched his brother as he read through it one last time. 

“It’s good,” he mumbled as he finished, exchanging a comma with a dot before finally looking up. 

“You think?”

“Sure, I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.”

“You’re right, but still,” Sam grinned, bumping Dean’s shoulder. While Dean busied himself with packing his computer into his school bag, he absently watched Sam on the wooden kitchen chair. The expression on his face showed that his brother wanted to say something, so Dean waited patiently for him to speak. 

“How did you know? That you were bi?” he asked at last, Dean looking up from pulling the zipper on his bag. He considered the question for a moment, not sure of what to answer. How had he known? It wasn’t as if someone had flashed a sign in front of him that read ‘you can be into guys too’. 

“I don’t know, it just made sense to me to like anyone despite their gender.”

“But how did you _know_ that you liked a guy? The first time?”

“Little brother, are you coming out of the closet?” Dean smirked, pleased at Sam’s immediate objections. 

“No! I’m just curios! God, Dean, can’t you take a theoretical question?”

“Can’t you fucking tell me why?” Sam squirmed in his seat, blushing furiously. 

“Girls are just really difficult to talk to,” he said at last, turning his back towards Dean who had to fight to keep from laughing. 

“Sammy, is there a special someone you haven’t introduced me to?”

“She doesn’t know I exist,” he muttered, tapping the edge of the desk with his thumbs. 

“So you think that you might be gay because you don’t know how to talk to girls? Look at me, Sam,” Dean sighed, turning his brother’s shoulder to look into his eyes. He looked a little annoyed, but still keen on getting advice. “Talking to the guy you have a crush on is difficult too,” he smirked, remembering the hundreds of times he had tried to summon up the courage to talk to Cas. 

“Really?”

“Trust me. Now tell me about this girl.” Sam’s frown immediately turned into a smile, and Dean chuckled softly.

“Well, her name is Jessica, but everybody calls her Jess. We have Math, P.E. and Geography together.”

“And you’ve never talked to her?”

“Of course I have, I just…”

“You make a fool out of yourself as soon as you open your mouth, I get it. Are you really asking me for help?”

“Please?” he asked, and how was Dean supposed to refuse? Perhaps he wasn’t the best person to give advice since he had never really been in a serious relationship, however he knew how they were formed.

“I’m sorry man, the only thing I can tell you is to get to know the girl. Talk to her, offer to help her with homework if she’s struggling, or ask her if she wants to hang out.”

“But why would she want to hang out with me?” Dean felt a pang of guilt as he recognized his own doubts in Sam, knowing that he was at least partly responsible for his brother’s behavior. However, he also knew that he could set things right. 

“You won’t know until you ask, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”

“She’ll laugh in my face?”

“She’ll say no. That’s your worst case scenario. Not so bad, huh?”

“Not so bad,” Sam agreed, nodding slowly to himself. Dean ruffled his hair, and shooed him out of the room. 

“Go get some sleep, and you ask her tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam’s footsteps carried down the hall, and Dean could just make out the “Thank you” that he called out before closing his bedroom door. With a smile Dean sauntered off to the bathroom, where he gently unwrapped the bandage around his hands to check his wounds. They were healing slowly, presumably because of Dean’s lack of interest in looking after them, but at least they weren’t bleeding anymore. 

After spending a few minutes cleaning the wounds, Dean took a shower, hot water rinsing away the tension in his shoulders. He really had to learn how to relax. He quickly brushed his teeth as Sam began knocking on the door, and slumped on the left side of his bed as he returned to his room. 

Exhaustion crept up, beating on the backs of his eyelids, but he couldn’t sleep. Not until Sam was finished and the house had gone completely silent. Because for Dean, silence was safety. 

 

Dean woke with a shout, skin clammy and cold. He stood up way too quickly for his brain to catch up, and nearly fainted as his vision turned black around the edges. With a growl he began pacing back and forth in the room, hitting the walls with his palms with every turn.

Watching Jo get shot should have been old news by now, but the panic and fear still seared through Dean at the thought of her death, and every dream he had of her caused him to wake up in a frenzy. 

_She’s gone_ , he thought, rubbing his temples with rough fingers. She was gone, but she was still everywhere, surrounding him all the time to remind him of how he had failed her. 

“No,” he tried to yell, but it came out as a whimper. The sound startled him, and he leaned over his desk, placing his open palms on the surface. Ears pounding, eyes flickering, throat parched. She was gone and it was his fault. 

A burning sensation in his lungs caused him to take a gasping breath, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. As the panic began to build he forgot how to pull in the oxygen and push out the carbon dioxide, pull in the calm and push out the fear. His breaths turned shallow and short, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Nothing made sense anymore. There was no up, no down, no light, no dark. Only pain and dangerous thoughts that drifted through his mind at a hundred miles an hour. He scrambled to the window, pulling up the curtain and opening it up to the cold night. No more than a second after he had pushed his head out the window he threw up the meagre dinner that Sam had spent so much time putting together. 

He knew that he was having an anxiety attack, because he recognized the signs well enough by now. However, while one part of his brain told him to calm down already, the other was urging at him to run for his life. He was so fucking scared that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function, could only keep watching his shaking hands as his memories reminded him of the bullets that zipped through the air. 

Sam couldn’t help him, he knew that, because his brother was young, and although he had a good heart he could never know just how broken Dean truly was. It was completely out of the question for him, because Dean was the one who took care of and looked after Sammy, not the other way around. Band-Aids and gauze was one thing, but reaching inside Dean’s mind to ease his pain wasn’t even an option.   
The lack of oxygen was beginning to affect Dean’s balance, and he had to steady himself on both the desk and the nightstand to reach his phone. It took a ridiculous amount of tries before Dean could finally unlock it, and then he suddenly didn’t know why he had picked it up in the first place. 

Who could he possibly call? Crowley was unreachable unless you located him in real life, and Dean could hardly talk to any of the other guys. With a shake of his head and what closely resembled a sob he scrolled through his contacts. They were all empty names, no one who could help.

One name stood out among the rest. _Cas_. But he couldn’t call Cas and dump his problems on him. He simply couldn’t. 

Pain suddenly exploded in his left hand and up his arm, and with a gasp he looked down, expecting to find burning flesh. However, the only point of interest he did find was a dark spot spreading on the underside of his arm from his hand to his elbow. He went through every motion he had made in his fuzzy brain, and with the help from a bloodstain on the kitchen chair he realized that he had just scraped his entire injured arm along the quite sharp wooden edge. The result should have been unbearable, but the shocking contrast of the blood against his flashing white mind removed some of his internal agony. 

Gritting his teeth to keep from screaming, he pressed the already sensitive skin against the piercing wood again. The pain left a hollow feeling in his chest, but his mind felt clear. With a deep breath he staggered back to his bed and lay down slowly, pressing the bases of his hands to his eyes. He refused to cry, because crying always spurred a second and much more intense anxiety attack, and now there were not a lot of hours left until he had to be back at Graham’s. Breaking down now would leave him numb and unable to function.

“Can’t keep going through this shit,” he muttered, rubbing circles over his temples. He was most likely ruining yet another set of sheets from his bleeding arms, but he was too exhausted to care. The house was quiet, and his mind had settled down for the time being. 


	11. Chapter 11

When Sam woke him up two hours later, Dean quickly brushed away the salt crusts in the corners of his eyes and got out of bed. He threw the sheets into the laundry bag before pulling out a t-shirt that didn’t stink and a hoodie that said ‘Red turtles’, the name of a not-so-famous and not-very-good baseball team that he had seen once. His arms were pounding disquietingly, but he told himself that he was alright. The wounds were just going to turn into yet another set of scars that he would hide underneath his clothes. 

With the hood up Dean lazily walked to the kitchen, clasping his cold fingers on the back of Sam’s neck while peeking over his head to see what he was doing. 

“Tomatoes, beans and eggs for breakfast. I’m impressed,” Dean smiled, stifling a yawn as he sat down by the table. 

“It was all we had left, unless you’d like some beer instead.” 

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I’ll get some groceries after school.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Sam said quietly, sliding the fried eggs onto two plates, one of which he handed to Dean. Dean took it in silence, considering what Sam had just said. Was his brother blaming himself? Dean couldn’t allow that to happen. 

“I’m responsible for getting us food, of course it’s my-“

“No you’re not!” Sam bit back, and it was clear that he was desperate to change Dean’s thoughts on the matter. However, if there was one thing Dean could actually do it was to take care of his brother. 

“Don’t try to put this on yourself, you’re just a kid. You know that I’ll take care of you, right?”

“It’s still not your fault that we don’t have enough money to buy decent breakfast. It’s dad’s.”

Dean could hardly argue with that. He smiled weakly, taking a bite of the tomato and bean salsa, quickly changing the subject. 

“So, do you have any classes with Jessica today?” Dean grinned, Sam blushing furiously. 

“Geography.” Dean whistled a single tune, nodding slowly. 

“Then you have a great opportunity to teach her the capitals of Europe!” 

“We haven’t done capitals in years, geography now is more…Sustainable environment and climate.”

“You’ll think of something. Just start with a ‘hello’, and things will work themselves out.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam shrugged, but Dean could see the gratefulness in his eyes. 

They finished breakfast, did the dishes and headed out shortly after. Their morning routine had drastically changed two weeks earlier, before which Jo had left first to meet up with Cas, then Sam had left as his classmate Brady showed up, and lastly Dean had locked the front door and walked to school by himself. Crowley usually joined him halfway, offering him a cigarette and quiet company. 

Now, however, Sam and Dean had an unspoken agreement that they would walk both to school and home together. If it was just temporary or permanent neither of them knew, but for the time being they found some comfort in spending those few kilometers together. 

They followed Storer Avenue to West 65 th street, all brick buildings and power lines. Abandoned cars filled up a courtyard, dusty windows reflecting some of the weak sunlight. The old factory had endured yet another night of joyrides and graffiti, looking just as molested and unwanted as ever as the two brothers cast passive glances in its way. Turning his eyes forwards again, a feeling of neglect and hatred raged inside Dean. 

He hated the place, hated it as much as he hated what the scars on his torso represented: violence and no respect towards other humans. The neglected pavement lined with weeds underneath their feet was yet another sign of society’s disregard for them.

Dean knew West 65 th street all too well, from all his drug runs and late nights out with Crowley during the years. He knew that most of the people living there had guns in their homes. He knew that crime was so much higher than in the rest of Cleveland because the police simply didn’t have the will to help. They were all unwanted, the inhabitants surrounding West 65 th street. Dean was through with it, but he had nowhere else to go. 

There was no way to get Sam and himself out of there without the risk of losing his brother. Was it worth it? Was he placing Sam in danger because of his own selfishness?

As Crosby came into view Dean was itching for a smoke, and he gave Sam a quick goodbye-hair-ruffling before joining Crowley and Boris who were perched on a bench on the borders of the school’s grounds. Tapping out a cigarette from the pack in his coat pocket, Dean lit it on Crowley’s glowing one as he listened to his story about a party he went to Saturday night. 

“It was wicked, man, you should have been there!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I already told you: I was sick.” Dean took a drag of the cigarette, forcing himself not to cough as the smoke entered his lungs. It was disgusting and it felt unclean, but the sensation of being able to relax was enough for him to inhale the smoke once more. 

“Speaking of parties, Michael is throwing one this Friday.”

“Since when are you friends with Michael the fucking Jock?” Dean scowled, Crowley rolling his eyes humorously slowly. 

“Since every senior in school is invited. Apparently he lives in a fucking mansion, and his parents are out of town this weekend.” Dean’s interest perked a little when he learned that everyone was invited, seeing as that would include Cas. Going to a party with Crowley, Gordon and the Jones brothers? Not so alluring. Going to a party with Cas? Now that could be enjoyable. 

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, tossing the cigarette to the ground as the warning bell for their first lesson rang. “Time to go!” Without waiting for the others to catch up Dean headed to his locker in Crosby, where he switched his bag and coat for a notebook and a pencil. He rummaged through the various books and loose papers until he found _Ivanhoe_ , before going up the stairs to the second floor. 

Every fiber of him dreaded the one hour of literature that lay ahead of him: he enjoyed reading and analyzing books, but Mrs. Johnson’s questions and strict teaching methods were tough. The dark feelings at the back of his mind vanished and were replaced with a smile as he stepped into the classroom and spotted the back of Cas’s head. 

He could definitely handle one hour of Mrs. Johnson with Cas next to him. 

As he aimed for the second row in the classroom, a flying object to his left made him stop abruptly to see where it had come from. To no one’s surprise, Zach’s notebook was shredded and little crumpled balls of paper lay on his desk. Dean watched as he tossed one at Cas, anger blooming in his chest as Cas flinched but bravely refused to react.

Zach picked up another ball, aimed carefully and tossed it, however Dean stuck his hand out and managed to catch it. The absence of a teacher in the room gave Dean enough confidence to throw the paper ball at Zach with all the force he could muster, pleased as the jock actually ducked. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Zach growled, standing up in an instant. Dean held his ground even as the sturdy guy towered over him.

“I could ask you the same. Stop messing with Cas, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

“I’m not scared of you, Winchester,” Zach hissed, obviously trying his best to seem frightening, however Dean was used to John, and Zach was nothing but a spoiled kid in comparison. He chuckled softly, backing away as Mrs. Johnson entered the room. 

“I’m not scared of you either, Zachy-boy,” he grinned, turning his back on the jock to join Cas. Only when he sat down did Dean realize that the entire class was dead silent. As he looked over his shoulder at the ones in the back, they quickly turned their gazes towards the front of the classroom. 

Wow. Apparently they all took his warning towards Zach quite seriously. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Cas mumbled, his ears burning red. Dean leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, stunned as Cas recoiled before he got too close. To cover his actions he reached for Cas’s pencil case and pulled out a pen. 

“Can I borrow this?” he said quietly, settling back into his own seat as Cas nodded. Mrs. Johnson had started the lesson, saying something about who had handed in their essays and who hadn’t, but Dean couldn’t focus on her words. The only thing his brain could handle at the moment was thinking through what had he done wrong this time. He had been careful not to push Cas the previous night, sensing his nervousness and knowing that he would need time.He had replied to every text message, even sending off a “goodnight” before going to bed. So what had happened to make Cas like this? Why was he refusing to let Dean touch him? 

Was it because he had stood up to Zach? Had he imagined the look of relief on Cas’s face as Zach stopped teasing him? 

Dean had a hard time registering anything that Mrs. Johnson said during the lesson. Cas helped him out by returning his book to the front, giving him a questioning look as he sat down again. 

When the hour had come to an end Dean practically bolted out of the classroom, his head not quite where he needed it to be when he was facing a double session of Science. He continued past the staircase and entered the bathroom, where he hovered above one of the sinks, his hands gripping the cold metal edge. 

“What did I do?” he whispered, repeating the mantra over and over. “What did I do? What did I do?”

_What did I do?_

He heard the door being opened, but couldn’t make himself stop saying the four words. 

“Dean,” a voice said, and of course it was Cas, because who else would it be? The door was locked and moments later Dean was embraced by warm arms and a soft voice. 

“What happened?” Dean snorted a laugh at that, untangling himself from Cas’s comforting arms and warm presence. 

“You tell me. What did I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re messing with my head, and I don’t know how to read you. Am I forcing you into this? Into being with me? If you’re doing this because of Jo, please stop and get the hell out of my life.” Dean didn’t notice that he was shaking until Cas gently grabbed his arms, a worried look in his eyes. 

“Just take it easy,” Cas mumbled, rubbing his thumb on the inside of Dean’s arm. He somehow managed to hit one of the many wounds, making Dean recoil from his touch. However, the shock of pain that was sent to his brain actually helped him refocus, and he took a deep breath, then another, and then he straightened up. 

“What did I do?” he repeated, hating the sad expression on Cas’s face. 

“You didn’t do anything. I just wasn’t expecting you to want to…you know…kiss me in public.” Dean took a beat at that, furrowing his brow. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s too soon? I mean, what will people think about…” he paused, swallowing hard. “…about us?” 

Like that, Dean understood. He hadn’t done anything, Cas’s parents and the students at his old school were the ones to blame. Constantly hiding from himself for years had left its marks in Cas, and Dean wouldn’t be able to fix that – Cas would just have to learn how to trust him. 

With a weak smile Dean pulled Cas into a hug, pulling away shortly after to look into his eyes. He ran his fingers through the thick black hair, enjoying the way Cas let his hands rest on Dean’s hips like he had done it a million times before. 

“I want to kiss you everywhere,” he said softly, placing a kiss on Cas’s left temple. “And I don’t care who sees it.” He turned Cas’s head and rewarded his right temple with another kiss. “And no one is going to think less of you if you kiss a guy.” 

“Try telling that to the people at my old school.”

“Well, at Graham’s it’s for real. Everyone knows that I’m bisexual. The head of the student council, Mary, has been with a girl for three years now. No one _cares_.”

“Then why am I still being pushed down the stairs twice a week?” 

“Because you’re the newbie, and Zach’s an ass. He’ll stop.” 

“I can’t afford to believe that.”

“Then believe in me, damn it,” Dean grinned, kissing him again. Cas sighed a little, but he was soon as lost in the sense of touching as Dean was. 

“We’re going to be late for class,” Cas mumbled against his lips, breaking away too soon. 

“We can skip class.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I promised Jody I wouldn’t miss any more school.”

“How about lunch?” With a smile, Cas leaned in for yet another kiss.

“Lunch sounds good.”

 

They had lunch together in a distant corner of the cafeteria, Cas listening to Dean’s detailed description of the horrible experiment they had done during science – it had involved pricking a needle into Dean’s finger, and Cas found Dean’s reaction to it strangely amusing. 

Before splitting up to go to their respective lessons, Dean automatically leaned in for a kiss. Cas resented it this time around as well, so Dean gritted his teeth and wished him a good day. He knew that nothing good came out of postponing things, but he also knew that Cas would need time to adapt to the open lifestyle Dean was used to, and to learn to trust him. 

When his afternoon lessons were over, Dean sauntered over to Nash where he found that Sam was already waiting for him to go home together. After a quick hug they took the route through the parking lot, stopping by Jo’s bike for a few minutes. 

“Do you want to go to the market?” Dean asked eventually, his arm slung around Sam’s shoulders.

“Oh, we don’t need to do that. I’m sure you have homework?”

“But do you want to?” Sam worried his lower lip between his teeth, glancing at his brother. 

“Sure,” he said casually, casting a last look at the green bike before pushing Dean towards the road that would lead them towards the center of the town. 

At the market, Dean bought two freshly baked muffins and joined Sam in the empty stand, sitting on the counter like they always did. Sam appreciatively caught the raspberry muffin that was tossed in his direction, and began nibbling at a corner of it.   
They sat in silence as they ate, watching the people passing by. The stand was empty for once, giving the brothers a sanctuary of privacy in the hectic atmosphere. 

“Did you talk to Jessica today?” Dean broke the silence after his umpteenth attempt at taking a bite of the white chocolate muffin he had picked for himself. His appetite was still disturbingly absent. 

“What if I did?”

“What did she say, smartass?”

“Nothing special,” Sam shrugged, but Dean could see the obvious joy that his brother was trying to conceal. He bumped his shoulder, flashing him a huge grin.

“What did she say?”

“Fine! I asked if she wanted to go see _The Hateful Eight_ with me.” 

“And?”

“And, what do you think? She said yes!” Sam laughed, smile glued to his face. 

“Well, then you found a girl with good taste! When are you seeing it?”

“I was going to ask you about that… Can we go on Thursday?”

“Sounds good. You can go grab something to eat before, and I’ll pick you up when the movie’s finished, alright?”

“Thanks,” Sam grinned, laughing as Dean poked a finger to his ribs. As they bickered on for a while, Dean wondered if he would ever be able to give it up, to not have his life run parallel to his brother’s. He knew that there would come a time when Sam would want to go off to college, get a job, and maybe get married someday. There would come a day when Dean would no longer be needed, and that thought alone scared him to death. 

The balance between letting Sam be independent and always wanting to be there for him was frustrating, and not, Dean realized, something that he got to decide for himself. 

“Is dad coming home tonight?” Sam murmured, stubbornly looking at his feet. Dean sighed, considering what day it was. 

“Most likely, yes.” 

“Will you…you know-“

“I’ll sleep in your room, of course,” Dean smiled dimly, his heart speeding up in distress. One day, Sam wouldn’t need him anymore: one day, Sam would be a grown-up and have his own life planned out for him, and all Dean would be able to do was stand on the sidelines. His breathing quickened noticeably, Sam rubbing his back gently as Dean leaned forwards. 

“It’s okay,” Sam said quietly, reading Dean better than Dean could read himself.

One day, Sam wouldn’t have to ask him to sleep next to him because he was scared of what their father would do to him if he didn’t. 

 

When he had recovered from the slight anxiety attack, Dean gave Sam a long look. 

“We need to talk,” he revealed, fiddling with his fingers.

“About what?”

“Something I’ve brought up before, but that I’d like you to reconsider.”

“Dean-“

“I’d like you to reconsider me reporting John, and then go live with a foster family.”

“Never.”

“I could move with you, at least live a few miles away, or less.”

“I’m not going to leave you!” Sam exclaimed, attracting the attention of a few market visitor’s, but he truly didn’t care. “It’s not going to happen!”

“Sam, hear me out. It’d only be until you’re eighteen, then, if you still want to, we can find a place of our own in another city, hell, another part of the world. It’s not permanent.”

“What if they arrest you too, huh? What then? You’ll get years in prison for the things dad has forced you to do.” 

That thought had not yet crossed Dean’s mind, and he took a beat before answering. 

“Then you get a chance to start over. You’re worth more than this, Sam.” His brother scoffed at that. 

“So are you. I love you, Dean, but I won’t let you do this. We can handle four more years of John.” 

_What if I don’t want to live here for four more years_? Dean screamed at himself, but he couldn’t say it, he couldn’t hurt his brother like that. He would do anything for him, including putting his own dreams on hold to make Sam’s come true. 

“Love you too, kid,” Dean sighed, ruffling his hair affectionately. They leaned against each other, the silence thick around them despite the low rumble of voices. 

Dean would wait for Sam to finish high school, then they would live with John until they were both considered adults. He realized, with a sinking of the pit in his stomach, that Cas wasn’t included in those future dreams, since he would most likely be going off to college after summer. Maybe they would have a few months together, then Cas would realize that he could do better than Dean – and leave. There was no reason for Cas to stay behind for Sam’s sake.

Dean was aware that they didn’t know each other all that well, but when he pictured himself as an old man on a porch with a cup of coffee in his hand, Cas was the one who had given it to him. He couldn’t imagine a future without Cas in it.

“Do you miss her?” Sam said suddenly, and Dean had to shake his head to collect his thoughts. 

“Jo?”

“Mom.” Dean smiled, however there was nothing happy about the expression. He would never be able to admit that he had pushed away the memories of his mother for such a long time that he could barely get them out anymore. 

“Every day,” he lied, looking around the little stand, seeing his six-year-old self running around in there with a Mohawk on his head. Mary Winchester, looking about ready to lock her oldest son into the safe underneath the counter, welcomed an old couple and asked them what they wanted to order. Jo appeared, dressed up as a cowboy, and following Dean closely she chased him around the four legs that might as well have been trees for all they knew. 

“Do you remember her?” Dean asked, hearing two-year-old Sam screaming in the back. Fourteen-year-old Sam frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Not really, just the cinnamon rolls.”

“They were great cinnamon rolls,” Dean agreed, remembering all the day-old cinnamon rolls they had been given during the years, too old to sell but too fresh to throw away. 

“Do you think that dad would have been different if she had survived?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. He was drinking quite a lot back then too.”

“You know you don’t have to protect me all the time, right? I think we should share the punches evenly.” Dean took one look at his brother’s serious expression, and burst out laughing. 

“God, you’re killing me,” he chuckled, and laughed even more at Sam’s frown. 

“I’m serious.”

“Well, little brother, there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen. First of all, you’re so scrawny that you’d crumble like a house of cards. And secondly, I’m older than you and therefore I am the one who decides what happens and what does definitely _not_ happen at home. I can’t believe you even suggested that.” 

“But-“ Sam whined, but now Dean put his hand up, and his expression grew stone serious. 

“If you say as much as one word to provoke him, I’ll kick your ass. If you try something when I’m not at home, I’ll kick your ass. If you bring this up again, I’ll-“

“You’ll kick my ass, I got it,” Sam snapped. “Just try to imagine what it’s like for me.” 

“When did this idea pop into your head, huh?” Dean snorted, refusing to admit that he would be acting exactly the same as Sam was at the moment if their positions were switched. 

“I just think I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Not when it comes to this, kid. Trust me. And trust that I know it’s tough for you too.” 

“Fine,” Sam muttered, and Dean let go of the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. After a short pause, he chuckled softly and leaned back against the glass showcase next to the counter. 

“What?”

“Quite intense topics we just went through.”

“You could say that,” Sam grinned, and they both broke the tension with laughter. 

“How about a lighter one?”

“What did your teacher think about the essay on _Ivanhoe_?”

“She’d have liked it if Cas hadn’t handed in some fucking dissertation.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Sam assured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder that wasn’t meant to be comforting at all. 

“Whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes, swatting his hand away. “Go buy us some more cupcakes, will you?” He pushed his brother off the counter and handed him a $10 bill, watching him stroll away to the back of the market. Next to him on the counter, the untouched white chocolate muffin seemed to glare at him, making his stomach turn. 

“Not hungry,” he muttered to himself, quickly discarding the muffin before Sam returned with another one. 


	12. Chapter 12

It had been a long time since Cas had been so frustrated. He was so incredibly and unexpectedly attached to Dean that he didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to walk around the school holding Dean’s hand and get a kiss every time they parted before a lesson. On the other, he was terrified of what would happen if everyone found out that he was gay. Would his friends still want to talk to him? Would the teachers give him odd looks and talk behind his back about how he needed to be ‘cured’? 

And what would Jo have thought about him kissing her brother? Had she known that Dean was bisexual? 

He had continued to meet Dean for lunch every day that week, and didn’t get a single comment on it until Friday at noon, when he declared that he was meeting Dean again. 

“You’re spending more time with Winchester than you are with us!” Kevin pointed out as they half-ran to Stills in the cold. 

“I’m not!” Cas reiterated, but was interrupted by Meg.

“Sorry, but you kind of are.” 

“He just needs a friend.” 

“He _has_ friends, remember? Crowley and the crew?” Meg continued, shuddering as they entered the cafeteria and got in line. 

“He needs friends like you guys,” Cas muttered, and now Benny stepped in. 

“Why don’t you two sit with us then? We’ll all get a chance to get to know him for ourselves.” As Cas considered the suggestion, he spotted Dean walking in through the doors, scanning the room for someone. For _him_ , Cas realized. 

“I’ll ask him,” Cas muttered, leaving the line to join his friend. Dean looked relieved as he spotted him, and quickly made his way deeper into the cafeteria.

“I was afraid I’d be eating alone for a while there,” he said with a smile, getting in line after two girls that Cas realized were the _100 ways to make a school day more fun_ -girls. They were wearing black slim fitted clothes, along with black scarfs tied around their heads. 

“What number are you on today?” Cas said, without thinking through it, and the girls turned around in surprise. 

“31: Ninjas,” the blonde girl replied with a huge grin as she recognized him, raising her hands in what she must have thought was a ninja-fighting-gesture. The other girl began laughing, trying to copy her motions. 

“We’re starting to run out of ideas, however, so feel free to come up with something!”

“How about cowboy vs Indian?” Dean smirked, causing Cas’s heart to skip a beat.   
Yup, he was definitely screwed. 

“Good one!” blonde-girl exclaimed, turning her focus towards her friend as they began discussing what could be done with the suggested theme. 

“Do you know what’s on the menu today?” Dean asked, craning his neck to look at the plates on the tables closest to them.

“Um, Benny wanted me to ask-I was wondering if-um, would you like to sit with me and Benny and Meg and Charlie and Kevin today?”

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Dean grinned, so Cas took a deep breath before trying again. 

“Would you like to meet my friends?” Understanding crept up on Dean’s face, and suddenly he seemed to turn a bit shy, rubbing the back of his neck absently. 

“Sure. I mean, if you think it’s a good idea.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Benny hasn’t told you, huh? We had a bit of a falling out last year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool. I’m not one to hold grudges, if he’s willing to let it go.”

“He was the one who told me to ask you to sit with all of us,” Cas rambled, his eyes glued to Dean’s mouth as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“You need to stop being so adorable,” he whispered, low enough so that no one could overhear the words.

“You need to stop doing that,” Cas retorted, nodding towards his lips. Dean’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and agonizingly slowly he let his lip slide out from between his teeth. 

“Soup,” Cas blurted, blinking hard to stop staring. 

“Sorry?” 

“It’s soup today. The food.”

“Oh,” Dean breathed, turning his body slightly so his side was facing Cas. 

“Do you have any lessons after lunch?” Cas swallowed, desperate to calm his nerves. 

“Nope. You?” 

“No.” Dean nodded to himself, looking straight ahead with expressionless eyes. 

“Do you want to come to my place?” Cas asked, his pulse racing as he could see how the crinkles grew in the corners of Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that.”

“Great! I mean, um, cool.” Cas winced, berating himself for the stutter that constantly seemed to appear in Dean’s presence. 

Dean didn’t speak until they had grabbed a bowl and a spoon each, and were beginning to fill them up with the watery meat soup that was offered.

“Have you told your friends about _us_?” he said shyly, balancing a piece of bread on the edge of the bowl.

“I haven’t told them anything.”

“Not anything? Not even…?” Dean didn’t have to finish the sentence for Cas to know what he was implying.

“No.”

“Alright. Then I’m not going to put my foot in my mouth.” Cas thanked him with a silent look, then led the way towards the table where he could spot Benny’s tall figure. Once they had reached it, his friends all fell silent, their eyes glued on Dean. 

“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly, showing off his straight line of teeth with a short laugh.

“I’m Dean.”

“Hey, Dean,” Charlie replied softly, returning the smile. 

“Hi,” Kevin greeted with a nod, his eyes flickering to Benny, who was watching the newcomer. 

“Dean,” he offered, just the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I hope your nose healed well?”

“Same goes for your knuckles,” Dean scoffed, and a few intense seconds later Benny’s face exploded into a grin. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, and like that the tense atmosphere vanished. They all shuffled to the side to make some space, Cas ending up next to Benny, facing Dean who sat next to Meg. 

Charlie and Kevin fell into the conversation that Cas and Dean must have interrupted before, and soon all six of them were deeply involved in Charlie’s tale of how big of an ass her boss was. 

“He refused to let me take the night off! Simply refused, with no good reason!”

“Maybe he really needs you?” Kevin pointed out, but Charlie promptly shook her head. 

“Bullshit, he could find someone else, he’s just too lazy.”

“Do you know anyone else who works there?” Dean chimed in, a little flustered as five pairs of eyes were suddenly directed at him.

“Yes?”

“So ask one of them instead? Maybe someone can take your shift, and then youjust have to tell your boss that you solved it by yourself.” Charlie tilted her head, clearly considering the idea.

“That’s actually pretty clever,” she said, only making Dean shrug hesitantly. 

“You could give it a try.”

“I’m going to call him straight away! Thanks, Dean,” she beamed, skipping away to the doors that led to the gymnasium, where she would be able to find a room more suitable for making the necessary phone calls. 

“Why does she want the night off?” Cas asked, and now it was his turn to feel every gaze directed towards him. 

“Cas,” Kevin sighed, shaking his head slowly. Dean had a mischievous smile plastered on his face, stirring his spoon around in the soup. “Michael the Jock is throwing a party at his place, and every senior from Graham’s is invited.”

“Are we going?”

“Of course we are! See, this is what you miss out on when you don’t have lunch with us,” Kevin chuckled, and Cas could feel his cheeks heating up. 

“I was planning on telling him,” Dean smiled, casting a quick glance at Cas before looking down at the table again. 

“Michael apologized to me the other day,” Cas revealed, and even Benny, who knew Michael better than the rest of them, looked surprised.

“What did he say?” Benny asked, scraping the last of the soup from his bowl.

“Just that he was sorry, and that he’d try to get the jocks to stay away.”

“I’ve always found Michael to be the most reasonable of the guys, but that’s impressive, even for him,” Benny snorted. Kevin nodded quickly, leaning forwards in that characteristic way of his that meant that he had something to say.

“How about a pre-party? Is anyone’s house free?”

“Jody’s working, so I guess you could all come to my place,” Cas pondered, smiling at Kevin’s reaction.

“Awesome! What time? Is five am cool with everyone? Great!” Kevin blurted, barely taking note of his friend’s replies.

“I’m driving to Michael’s, if you want a ride,” Dean suggested, a bit stunned as Meg wound her arm around his shoulders. 

“Only if you join the pre-party,” she said assertively, not bothering to ask the others for permission since she knew that they would grant it.

Cas’s chest swelled as he watched his friends take Dean in. He knew that Benny was still a bit on the defense, but he’d come around. The icing on the cake was the expression on Dean’s face as he was invited to the pre-party, and it would stick with Cas for weeks. Never before had _he_ been the cause of so much joy. 

 

Cas and Dean went straight to West 52 nd street after lunch, where they decided to take the over-enthusiastic Bucky out on a walk before they had to get all of their winter gear off. 

While crossing the Zone Rec Center Park, Dean offered to take over the task of holding Bucky, his hand brushing over Cas’s as he was handed the leash. Blushing furiously, Cas pulled his hand away and shoved it deep in his coat pocket. He was so unbelievably scared of letting anyone know, but still more than anything he wanted to kiss the hidden look of sorrow on Dean’s face. 

“We’ll be home alone till five pm,” Cas said in an attempt to cheer Dean up, but he only gained a dim smile in response. Bracing himself against what he was about to say, Cas stopped abruptly. 

“Dean,” he called, his voice carried off with the breeze. 

“Cas,” Dean sighed, his arm straining against Bucky who didn’t at all understand the purpose of stopping. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Nothing you say or do can hurt me,” Dean muttered, probably more to himself than to Cas. 

“But I don’t want to get hurt, either. Will you give me some time to think things through?”

“And let me be your private toy in the meantime?”

“And let me kiss you when I’m not afraid of getting my bones broken.” Dean flinched: it wasn’t much, but it was enough for Cas to notice it. He looked around, making sure that no one they knew would walk by. Then he pressed his lips against Dean’s, smiling throughout the entire kiss. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind being your toy,” Dean whispered as they parted, lips slick with spit. Cas leaned into his arms, nuzzling against the side of his neck. He wouldn’t mind it either. 

“I know this is completely out of the blue, but do you want to stop by your house to pick up some clothes for tonight?” Cas asked, and Dean actually laughed at how his thoughts roamed. 

“How is it that you thought of clothes while you were kissing me?” Dean teased, continuing on their walk south with an arm around Cas’s shoulders. 

“No reason,” Cas murmured, scratching the side of his head. There was absolutely no connection to his question and the thought of tearing Dean’s clothes off. None. 

As they walked, Cas listened to the distinct breathing pattern that revealed that Dean wanted to say something. He nearly asked him about it, but stopped himself at the last moment – if there was one thing he had learned, it was that Dean couldn’t be pushed. At least not by him. 

“What really happened at your old school?” Dean said at last, his voice surprisingly gentle. 

“I was bullied,” Cas replied, somehow knowing that Dean was seeking another answer. 

“I know that, and you have every right to not tell me, but- did something bad happen to you? Like really bad? Is that why you said you were afraid of broken bones?” 

“Right, you want to know what it was that caused Jody to pretty much drag me out of my house in the middle of the night?”

“Like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Cas took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. 

“It was the baseball team’s captain, Peter, who found me and called an ambulance. He wasn’t too bad, Peter, not compared to his team members.” Frowning deeply, Cas recollected his memories of that night, often dubbed as the worst and the best night of his life. 

“I was jumped on my way home from school, by James, Howard, Mark and Antonio. Honestly, I don’t remember much of it. They beat me unconscious and left me on the ground behind a dumpster, where I was hidden from anyone who walked by. I lay there for forty-three hours, in April. You might think that April is a hot month, but I walked around with my winter coat for weeks after that.  
Anyway, Peter found me, and made sure I got to the hospital. He even called Jody, knowing that she was in town to help look for me. I had three broken ribs, hypothermia and a punctured lung. Not the most enjoyable experience, if I may say so, but at least it got me out of Parson.” 

Cas had never seen Dean so taken aback by anything before. His mouth was gaping, and he was literally unable to speak. Letting Dean take his time, Cas stayed silent and steered them towards the Winchester’s house. 

“How in hell could those jerks be allowed to go to your school? Didn’t the teachers notice anything?”

“Gay in a very conservative school, remember?” Cas sighed in defeat, enticing a series of words from Dean that were quite extreme, even considering his rough vocabulary. 

“I swear to god, if I ever met those kids…”

“It’s alright, really. It’s not something I think of on an everyday basis.”

“They just _left you there_?” Dean winced, stopping abruptly for a moment.

“I guess they figured that I’d wake up.”

“Did they apologize?”

“Do they sound like the kind of guys who’d apologize?” Cas snorted, stopping too, a few meters ahead of Dean.

“Unbelievable!” Dean exclaimed, and now Cas laughed. He laughed because he had never imagined he would feel so relieved after opening up about his past, and Dean’s reaction warmed him from the inside and out. The guy really and truly cared.

 

Cas waited outside as Dean quickly ran into his house, rejoining him not three minutes later with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a set of keys in his hand. “Guess we’re driving to your place,” he announced with his lopsided grin. Cas scooped the house, looking for what could have been a garage, but found nothing. 

“Where’s the car?” 

“Right here!” Dean beamed, gesturing towards a black car lining the street. Cas recognized it from the first time he had visited Dean, but he had never imagined that it could have been the Winchester’s. 

“It’s a nice car,” he mumbled, walking around it to the passenger’s seat. 

“1967 Chevrolet Impala.”

“Oh.” After getting a wary Bucky into the back seat, Cas followed Dean’s lead and got in the car, amazed at the smell and the feel of the interior. The engine sputtered to life with a low rumble, and Cas could just make out a smile playing on Dean’s lips as he pulled out onto the road. 

“It was my mother’s,” Dean said suddenly, eyes focused straight ahead. 

“The car?” He made a noise of affirmation, and Cas took another look around the interior of the car. Nothing revealed that it had belonged to a woman, except for what had to have been her necklace hanging around the rearview mirror. 

“How did she die?” Cas managed to ask, his fingers busy with fiddling with the seat belt. 

“House fire. There was nothing anyone could’ve done.” 

“It must be tough for your dad,” Cas mused, not missing the smirk on Dean’s face.

“So, cool of Michael to invite every senior, right?” Dean’s voice was a bit strained as he changed the subject, and Cas was dying to unravel more secrets about his family but he couldn’t make himself do it. 

“I guess,” he replied, the conversation sort of floating away. Two left turns and some impressive parallel parking by Dean later, Cas led the way into his house.

After giving Bucky food, Cas joined Dean who had leaned casually against the kitchen table. 

“So…” Cas began, and bit his lip as he realized he had nothing to say. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, letting his head rest on Cas’s shoulder. 

“Movie?”

“Iron Man 2?”

“Sounds good.”

They scrambled off to the living room, where Dean took the corner seat of the couch and stuck his tongue out at Cas’s faked angry expression. The more daring side of Cas’s brain won as he sprawled across Dean’s body, ending up lodged between his legs with the back of his head resting on Dean’s chest. While Cas turned on the TV and Netflix, Dean slowly snuck his arms around Cas’s shoulders, softly carding his fingers through his hair. 

Tony Stark was just handing over his company to Pepper when Cas could discern a soft snore, and soon he too fell asleep.

 

“Cas!” a voice yelled, ripping Cas out of sleep. He wiped some drool off the side of his face, shaking Dean’s shoulder to wake him up.

“I’m awake,” he mumbled, Cas smiling widely as he tried to sit up. 

“I think Charlie is at the door, I’m going to let her in.” Dean made a grumbling noise in objection, but he straightened up a little and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Man, we missed the entire movie,” he laughed, turning the TV off to join Cas. 

“Guess we’ll have to give it another chance.” Charlie stumbled inside as Cas opened the door, cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside. 

“I hope I’m not here too early,” she said, giving them a hug each before shaking off her coat. Dean took in her slim-fitted purple dress, and it seemed as if he was about to compliment it before he cut himself off with a nervous laugh. 

“Shit, I haven’t had time to change,” he grinned, making Cas realize that he too was still wearing the same clothes he’d had in school all day. 

“Maybe we should…?”

“I’ll just borrow the bathroom…?” they said simultaneously, Charlie laughing as she shooed them away to change clothes. 

Cas had not spent one second to figure out what he was going to wear, so he took a few minutes to locate the comfortable yet neat black jeans and a navy blue button-down shirt. He frowned at his hair in the mirror, trying and failing to smooth it down. Still barefoot he scurried into the bathroom, where he caught a flash of skin before Dean pulled on a white tank top, his back facing Cas. 

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Dean teased, but he was obviously in distress about something. With his left side facing Cas, he put on a dark blood-red shirt with shaking fingers, about to roll up the sleeves halfway up his arms before he changed his mind and pulled them down again. 

“You okay?” Cas said casually, standing next to him as he opened the cupboard where he knew that there had once been some hair gel. 

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He brushed the comment off, but Cas insisted on getting this one answer, this one truth from him.

“You just seem a little tense.” Dean sighed with a lopsided grin, turning so he was facing Cas instead of the mirror. 

“To tell you the truth, I’m not really much of a ‘party-guy’ unless it involves some sort of alcohol.”

“So why offer to drive?”

“I just-“ he bit his lip, cutting himself off. Cas understood – underneath the confident shell, Dean was actually insecure. It was all kind of adorable, and Cas was hit by a strong urge to kiss him. 

“You wanted to do something nice for my friends.”

“Whatever,” Dean snorted, eyes glued to Cas’s bare feet. 

“I wasn’t going to drink tonight anyways, so I can drive. If you’ll let me.”

“I don’t know…” Dean began, but Cas could tell that he was desperate to take him up on the offer. 

“How about this: you can drive us there, and if for some reason you’re drunk by the time we’re leaving, I’ll drive home.”

“Sounds good,” Dean said, obviously relieved. 

“Then it’s settled. Go talk to Charlie while I find some socks,” he smiled, pushing Dean out of the bathroom before he decided to do something inappropriate. Like kissing him. Preferably on the mouth. 

Cas quickly bent over the sink to wash his face with cold water, needing something that would clear his mind. With a determined nod he returned to his bedroom, where he found a pair of socks that he put on while heading to the kitchen. 

Charlie was fretting with Dean’s hair, trying to comb it into a side-parted style, while Dean repeatedly swatted her hands away.

“It’s fine the way it is!” he whined, relief flooding his face as he spotted Cas. “Tell her that she really doesn’t need to fix my hair!” Charlie raised an eyebrow at Cas, who scoffed while opening the fridge. 

“You don’t want to fool around with Charlie, Dean, once she’s set on doing something…” He finished with a slow shaking of his head, chuckling at Dean’s expression. 

Charlie won the argument at last, much to Dean’s dismay and Cas’s liking. The side-part looked surprisingly good. 

“I figured we should eat something, so you all won’t get drunk on empty stomachs,” Cas said, effectively interrupting their bickering. 

“Who said anything about getting drunk?” Charlie gasped innocently, before rolling up the sleeves of her dress to show that she was ready to work.

“I did,” Cas muttered, searching the fridge for anything that could be made into a meal. He spotted some fresh lasagna sheets, wrinkling his nose as he recalled the last time he’d made lasagna. 

“How about lasagna?” Charlie said softly, clearly aware of the reason behind his hesitance. 

“Cas’s world famous lasagna? Can’t miss that!” Dean chuckled, growing quiet as he noticed the look that was exchanged between Cas and Charlie. 

“I used to make it for Jo all the time,” Cas mumbled, but began pulling out the ingredients nonetheless. 

“She let me know every time you did,” Dean revealed with a fond smile. Cas glanced at him, grateful for his soothing presence. He put Charlie on frying the minced meat, Dean on tomato- and onion-chopping-duty, and begun making the white sauce himself. Once Dean was done he ended up hovering behind them, peeking over their shoulders to see the process of lasagna-making. Charlie suddenly turned around, handing the spatula to Dean.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she announced, and sauntered off deeper into the house. Cas watched her go, nearly burning the sauce from lack of attention. 

“Watch it,” Dean smiled, bumping his shoulder softly. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction Charlie had gone in, and when the sound of the bathroom door closing reached the kitchen he exhaled deeply, swiftly grabbing Cas’s waist to pull him into a kiss. 

It was a soft and affectionate gesture, with no other purpose than the comfort of the intimacy. Cas curled his fingers into Dean’s hair, gently scraping his fingernails along his scalp. Dean chuckled a little at the motion and responded by pressing his fingers against Cas’s lower back. Slowly, Cas’s hands wandered down Dean’s back, until he reached the hem of his shirt. As he tried to sneak in underneath it Dean tensed, and

Cas could feel that he was holding his breath. He let his hands return to Dean’s neck instead where they settled comfortably, and just like that Dean relaxed. 

Time was irrelevant, and every worry became strangely insignificant as they melted against each other. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t stop with them, as they were soon to discover. 

The sound of approaching steps reached them, but Cas found himself unable to pull away from Dean. The logic behind his decision to keep their relationship a secret seemed not so logical at all as Dean was basically draped over him. A warning light still flashed in the back of his mind, saying that it was a really bad idea to not react to the sound of Charlie coming into the kitchen. But he didn’t do anything. It was physically impossible for him to move away from Dean before it was too late. 

“I KNEW IT!” Charlie cheered, laughing triumphantly. “I _knew_ there was something going on between you two!” 

In the end it was Dean who broke the kiss, immediately casting a worried look at Cas. He mouthed ‘sorry’ before turning to Charlie. 

“What do you mean ‘you knew’?” Dean pondered, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. 

“Well you managed to keep Cas away from his four precious friends, that ought to count for something. He wouldn’t give us up for just anyone.” 

Cas’s mind was a bit of a mess as he tried to get a grasp on what was going on. Charlie _knew_. She just found out that he was gay by walking in on him kissing Dean. And he was scared to death of what she was going to say. And-

And the relief flooded through his body. She _knew_. She would probably tell the entire school, and their mutual friends, but it was out there. Like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound, it was surprisingly endurable.

“You’re not…?” he began, letting the question trail off to wherever she would choose to take it.

“What? I’m not going to run out screaming for a priest to cleanse me of your sins? What were you expecting, Cas? I’m your friend.”

“I just-“

“I’m happy for you,” she smiled, and ruffled the hair on their heads with one hand each. As Cas recovered, he also recalled the reason behind his earlier caution. He couldn’t live through half a year resembling the ones he had spent at Parson. He couldn’t do it. He refused. Swallowing hard, he faced Charlie.

“You can’t tell _anyone_.”

“Of course, you want to tell them yourself!”

“No. They can’t know.”

“But-“

“Cas,” Dean said softly, taking his hand. “No one cares.”

“They really don’t,” Charlie added, catching on to Cas’s hesitance. He could hear what they were saying, understand what they tried to tell him, but he couldn’t believe it. Not after his hopes had been crushed every minute of every day since he had first kissed his neighbor. 

“Mary Tompkins is gay. You know, head of the student council?”

“That’s what I told him!” Dean exclaimed, gesturing towards Cas who stood unwavering.

”And I’m gay too, if that helps,” Charlie added. 

”Really?” Cas exclaimed, realizing how insensitive he sounded but too shocked to care.

“I am. And you’re still you, Cas. It doesn’t matter who you love.”

“You really don’t mind?” Cas said quietly, eyes glued to the floor. 

“Well, I must admit that I’m a bit jealous. Now that we’re all getting to know Dean, I was going to ask him to be my prom date.”

”I thought you said you were gay?” Dean asked with a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. His smile was contagious. 

“Details, Winchester, Details. I guess I’ll have to ask- what’s that smell?” Charlie said suddenly, raising her head to sniff in the air. In the four seconds it took for Cas to realize the origin of the smell, a lot of things happened. 

Quickly turning around towards the stove, Cas yanked the pot with now half-white half-black sauce off it and cursed as he realized they would have to make a new one.   
While Cas’s focus lay on rescuing the sauce, the doorbell rang. They hadn’t noticed anyone approaching the house, however Bucky had, and he was already running towards the door. 

Over the temporary dog-stopping barrier (Bucky liked to sleep in Jody’s bed), through the living room and past the kitchen Bucky shot like a bullet. 

He ran right past Cas, who was still slightly unstable due to the emotional shock of Charlie blindsiding him and Dean mid-kiss. 

With the pot still in his hand, Cas tripped on his heels and fell backwards, yelping as he hit the floor and half-white half-black sauce was spread all over the floor, the cupboards and his clothes.

A stunned silence hung in the air as Cas stared at the now empty pot in his hand. 

“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Dean said absently, a smile slowly spreading on his face. Cas cast a look at him, then at Charlie, and then all three of them were done for. The doorbell was still ringing impatiently, but Cas couldn’t even get up off the floor. He was laughing so hard that he couldn’t breathe, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Dean and Charlie had joined him on the floor, both of them giggling helplessly as Cas raised the pot in a salute. 

“We’re coming in!” Benny’s voice called through the house, and soon he, Meg and Kevin were crowding the doorframe, their confused expressions enough to set off another round of laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Kevin asked, seeming a bit annoyed since he didn’t get to join in on the fun. 

“We’re making lasagna,” Cas squealed, taking a gulping breath in between two laughing fits. 

“I’ve never heard of a lasagna that involves lying on the floor covered in food,” Benny chuckled while helping Dean get to his feet. As the laughter slowly died out, Cas scanned the messy room. That so much sauce could fit into such a small pot was beyond him. Bucky had reentered the kitchen, and had already begun cleaning by happily lapping up the sauce in front of the fridge. 

“We should probably help him, there’s only so much four paws can do,” Dean grinned, and they all got to work.

 

With joined efforts the kitchen was cleaned up in less than fifteen minutes, and in the meantime Cas changed his shirt to a clean one, made a new sauce (monitoring it closely this time) and popped the lasagna into the oven. After setting the timer he turned towards the living room, where his five friends had spread out on the couch. Bucky was there too, observing the conversations in silence with Dean’s hand on his back. 

While he watched his friends, something dawned on Cas: if they couldn’t accept him for who he really was, did he even want to be their friend? The welcoming and open attitude that they had offered him since his first day at Graham’s felt genuine. No, Cas _knew_ that it was genuine. He trusted them, and maybe it was time that he showed them that. Maybe it was time he showed them the real Cas. 

He locked eyes with Dean, because of course Dean was watching him and keeping an eye on him even when he was at the other side of the room. 

He had to tell them.

Every footstep echoed between Cas’s ears, and somehow walking the short distance into the living room seemed to take several minutes. He could feel his palms clamming up, and every breath was like gunfire, blazing from his dry lips. 

_Ba-bum_. His heartbeat was impossibly loud. 

_Ba-bum_. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all-

_Ba bum._ He could do it. Because he had Dean. And because these people had chosen to be his friends, they had chosen to let him be a part of their lives. That had to count for something. 

_“Charlie will give you a hug and never let go. Seriously, fucking never. She won’t be there most of the time, but she’ll send you a text with just an emoji in it to let you know that she’s thinking about you._

_Kevin will ask you if you know any great places to hang out, if your house will be available for parties and interrogate you to find out if you’re good at making plans. No matter what time of the day you call him, he will be ready to do something. Nothing will ever be more important than spending time with you._

_Meg will want to know about your past, and talk about feelings and thoughts and all that. Just tell her some story of when your aunt bought Bucky and she’ll listen to it with her whole heart._

_Benny will spend the rest of his life looking after you. If you ever get into trouble, he’ll fucking run through fire to help you. I’ve never met anyone as loyal as him.” Joanna pulled out her phone, scrolling through it before showing him a picture of three girls and two guys next to each other, all in formal clothes. Joanna was right in the center, blonde hair and a wide grin on her face._

_“That was right before summer vacation.”_

_“It’s a nice picture.”_

_“They’ll love you, Cas. And if they don’t, I’ll kick their asses and never talk to them again. If they don’t like you, I don’t want to be their friend.”_

 

_Ba-bum_. 

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Cas announced, squaring his shoulders as he placed himself in front of the TV. Five sets of eyes turned in his direction. 

Green. Charlie. 

Brown. Kevin

Brown. Meg. 

Blue. Benny. 

Green. Dean. 

Cas had never noticed that Dean’s eyes were green. Now that he was holding Dean’s burning stare and scrutinizing every millimeter of his chiseled face, his eyes were light enough for him to see the deep, green color. He smiled. 

“I’m gay.” 

_Ba-bum_. 

No one moved. Cas’s eyes were still locked with Dean’s. 

Dean’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin. 

Benny, who was sitting closest to Cas, suddenly got up and stood right in front of Cas, who swallowed hard. 

“Thank you for telling us,” he said, and pulled him into a hug. Stunned to silence, Cas watched as Charlie, Kevin and Meg joined the hug, holding him tightly and wrapping him up in warmth and security. Like taking a deep breath of oxygen, Cas was filled with a euphoric sensation of fluttering in his chest.

_They don’t mind_. 

The embrace slowly unraveled, and then Dean was there, a laugh escaping his mouth as he took Cas in. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he beamed, strong arms suddenly squeezing the air out of Cas’s lungs, but it didn’t matter. 

“So, is there a lucky guy somewhere?” Kevin teased, softly punching Cas’s arm. 

“Right here,” Cas laughed, bravely pecking Dean on the lips. A short silence, joined only by Dean’s endless chuckle, was followed by a sigh of understanding from both Meg and Benny. 

“That explains _so_ much,” Meg exclaimed, giving them both another hug. “The eye-action between you two? Sheesh, I’ve been afraid I’d get burned if I ever broke it.”

Unexpected tears formed in Cas’s eyes as he took a step back, eyeing them all. 

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, smiling and crying and feeling like he was about to explode from all the emotions. Charlie rubbed his back through his shirt, a strangely soothing motion. 

“Alright, enough with the moping! We’ve got some celebrating to do and a party to go to!” Kevin cheered, the distinctive sound of glass against glass erupting as he lifted up his bag. 

“Charlie, help me with the lasagna?” Dean asked, giving Cas’s shoulder a squeeze as he walked by. Cas turned towards the kitchen just as Kevin opened his bag and pulled out bottle after bottle with unfamiliar labels on them. With a fond sigh Cas joined his friends, wondering how many plates they were going to break this time. 


	13. Chapter 13

Squeezing six persons into one car felt impossible at first, but the sheer size of the Impala made it not so impossible at all. Dean drove on the borders of the speed limit, making all of them laugh at every turn. 

Michael’s house was enormous. It looked more like an old castle with its bricks and pillars, and there was even a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, the water turned to crystal clear ice. Dean parked the car on the raked gravel, whistling a low tune as he took in the view. 

“I wouldn’t mind living here,” he chuckled, taking a last look at the lake before it disappeared behind the mansion. Cas followed him closely, surprised as the door was opened for them by a woman in a uniform. 

“Welcome,” she said politely, herding them towards a door at the end of the corridor after showing them where to hang their coats. Once they were at the other side of the door, the atmosphere changed dramatically. 

The room that appeared to be the living room was crammed with seniors and deafeningly loud music, some dancing in the middle and others mostly hanging around. Every one of the ten couches that Cas counted was occupied. He recognized a few faces, but it was difficult in the dim light. 

Kevin led the way to the bar at the other end of the room, where he ordered drinks for all of them. Cas got a soda in a plastic cup that he sipped attentively, avoiding a collision with a not so sober girl by a millimeter. 

Benny, Cas, Meg and Dean lingered by the bar, watching as Kevin pulled Meg onto the dance floor, both of them getting lost in the music. 

“They’re really drunk,” Charlie remarked, rolling her eyes as Kevin twirled Meg around. 

“Do you want to dance?” Benny offered, and soon Dean and Cas were left alone while their friends got lost in the crowd. 

“Do you want to dance?” Dean asked, repeating Benny’s question. 

“No way,” Cas replied, and laughed at Dean’s relieved expression. 

“Me neither.” 

“Thank god.” 

They chatted for a while, taking two chairs by the bar when their previous occupants left for the dance floor. Cas could soon feel that his friend’s attention was drifting, and glanced over his shoulder. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked at last, since it was impossible to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“I just spotted Crowley.”

“Crowley?”

“Sorry, he’s an old friend of mine. One of the guys I usually hang with at the old mall.”

“Right, the one who’s always smoking outside the school?” 

“That’s the one.” Cas searched the room, and caught a flash of a somewhat familiar face. 

“So, go to him. I’ll be fine.”

“Nah, I’ll stay with you.”

“Seriously, I’ll be fine. Go.” Dean hesitated for no more than a second before he placed a quick kiss on Cas’s cheek and stood up. 

“You want me to take the keys?”

“Probably a good idea,” Dean laughed, and pressed the car keys into Cas’s outstretched hand. 

Taking a sip of his soda, Cas’s eyes flickered around the room. In a little more than six months, high school would be over. He could picture himself on graduation day, with a silly cap on his head, surrounded by his friends. Everyone he cared for would be there. 

Everyone but Jo. He would never get to tell her about all the crazy things that he and Dean would do. His first reaction when anything happened to him was to call Jo and tell her, but now he just couldn’t. He couldn’t send her a text of the day’s events. He could imagine what he would say today:

_I just told them the truth._

**I knew you could do it. How r u feeling?**

_It feels amazing._

There were so many things she would never do. So many memories he would have to create without her in them. It was all so unbelievably unfair.

“Is this seat taken?” Cas looked up into the eyes of a blonde girl, and he smiled dimly as he recognized her – she was one of the _100 ways to make a school day more fun_ -girls.

“Nope, feel free to take it.” The girl laughed softly, and sat down.

“Are you alright? You looked a little lonely.” Cas tilted his head, watching his hands to avoid looking into her eyes.

“I was just thinking about Jo,” he said at last, and the girl nodded in understanding. 

“You two were really close, right?”

“Right,” Cas echoed. 

“Tell me something about her!” Her alluring voice was enough for Cas to look up, and he frowned.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything. What was her favorite color?”

“You’re asking me about her favorite color?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” she laughed, gently pushing his shoulder. “I don’t really know anything about her, so I’d like to know what her favorite color was.”

“What makes you think that I’d know?”

“Alright then, what do you think?” Cas considered her question, searching through his mental images of Jo until he found one where she was wearing a large green sweater.

“Green,” he smiled.

“What did she like to do on her spare time?”

“She always wanted to go to the market. Uh, West Side market. She’d buy a new flavor of cupcake every time we went there, and we’d sit at the empty stand two rows from the back.”

“What else?”

The girl kept asking questions about Jo, and Cas found himself enjoying telling her about the things they had done, Jo’s rough way of speaking, all the little things that had made her into who she was. 

Cas didn’t reflect on how much time had passed until Benny, Charlie and Meg joined them, loud and laughing and a shimmer of sweat on their foreheads. 

“This party rocks!” Charlie exclaimed, pulling Cas into a clingy hug.

“Sure you shouldn’t have another drink, Charlie?” Benny laughed, freeing Cas’s neck of her arms. 

“Where’s Kevin?” Cas asked, following the direction Charlie pointed in.

“Making out with a girl from PE,” she announced with an eye-roll. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes, me and- I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” Cas interruptedhimself, turning to the blond girl who laughed in response. 

“Andrea,” she said, holding out her hand. 

“Castiel,” Cas replied, shaking her hand with a smile. 

“So, Andrea, would you like to dance?” Benny grinned, taking Andrea’s hand as she accepted. Once they were gone, Meg sighed deeply and shook her head. 

“He never asks me to dance,” she scoffed, filling a glass with whatever was in the bottle she took from behind the bar – the bartender was busy with another order. Realization hit Cas as he took in Meg’s hurt look, and he gave her arm a nudge. 

“You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean-“ She breathed out, smiling at Cas. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You should tell him. And I’m saying this based on experience: guys like to hear it.” 

“Speaking of being into guys, where’s Dean?”

“He went to talk to Crowley a while back, but now I don’t know.” 

“He’s a good guy.” Cas’s lips cracked into a smile at her words. 

“He is.” 

“Really different from what I’d expected.”

“Oh? What had you expected?”

“Well, from everything Jo told us he seemed to be kind of wild. Not quiet and calm.”

“True,” Cas laughed, interrupted by Charlie who leaned heavily against him.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she slurred, and Meg swiftly grabbed her around thewaist to keep her from falling to the floor. 

“I should probably get her to a bathroom,” Meg said fondly, giving Cas a quick look.

“Go take care of her.” Cas waved her off, ensuring her that he would be alright on his own. 

He wasn’t alone for long, however, because no more than a minute after Meg had left with Charlie, Benny returned. Cas felt like he was the safe haven that his friends would return to before running off again. 

“Andrea found her other friends,” he announced, just about to sit down when he stopped himself. “Can we go somewhere quieter?”

“Sure,” Cas shrugged, following Benny’s tall head through the crowd. They went through a set of doors into a second living room that was a little more calm, but Benny continued into the next room which happened to be the kitchen. He sat down by a table in the far side of the room, as far away from the others that were in there as possible. The music was still audible but not as loud, and Cas huffed as he sat down. 

“I didn’t realize how loud the music was,” Cas exclaimed, leaning forwards onto his elbows. 

“Michael sure knows how to throw a party.” Benny closed his eyes briefly, opening them up towards the ceiling. Cas was a bit worried about Benny’s contemplative expression, and tried to come up with a way to ask him about it. However, Benny spoke before he had figured something out. 

“Look, Cas. I’m thrilled that you get along well with Dean, and that you two are becoming close, but I have to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Cas’s heart felt heavy and hollow. What did Benny know about Dean that he didn’t?

“You must know that he spent last year in prison, right?”

“Yes, Jo told me.” Benny winced at her name, closing his eyes again. 

“Did she tell you why? Did she tell you what she and Sam did in the meantime?” There it was. The very question that Cas had spent hours trying to figure out. He shook his head. 

“I thought so. I wasn’t going to tell you, but if you’re going to be more than his friend you deserve to know the truth.” 

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s really bad, brother. You have no idea what you’ve stepped into.” 

“Tell me what Jo and Sam did when Dean was in prison.”

“Dean was arrested in June, a week after summer vacation had begun. Four days later Jo and Sam showed up at my doorstep, bruised and bloody. They lived at my house the entire year that Dean spent in prison.”

“So that’s why you sort of know him?”

“I sucker punched him when he came to pick them up in May. Never really spoke to him after that.” Benny smiled dimly, giving Cas a sympathetic look. “Their dad, John, is really violent. He was the one who’d hit them.”

“Why would he start to hit them just because Dean went to prison?”

“Because before that, Dean took all the punches. He’s been protecting them for years, always making John go after him instead of his siblings. When he was gone, John lashed out at whoever was in the room.” 

“Oh my god,” Cas mumbled, burying his face in his hands. Clues he had not paid any attention to came to his mind, Dean’s strange comments about his dad, the bruises on his face that he’d claimed had come from messing around with Crowley. 

“You ready for the next part?”

“No,” Cas groaned, but he nodded to show that he wanted to hear it. 

“Now, I have no proof to back up what I’m going to say except for what Jo told me, which is this: John is a drug dealer.” 

“No way.”

“Yes. Dean was, or is, for all I know, John’s right hand, he drives him to the different locations and helps him out. He was arrested while in a car with drugs in it, but because of his clean record and age he didn’t get sentenced more than a year.”

“I can’t-“ Cas breathed, taking a gulp of air. 

“Hey, maybe he’s stopped. He was probably forced into it in the first place.” Benny desperately tried to calm him down, but they were all empty words. He’d thought that a perfect guy like Dean never could have fallen for someone like Cas. But he wasn’t perfect. No one was. He just happened to be one of the best things that had ever happened to Cas.

“I have to find him.”

“Last I saw him he was pretty drunk. Cas!” Benny grabbed Cas’s arm as he tried to walk back into the living room. “Wait till he’s sober?”

“I have to hear it from him.”

With determined steps Cas returned to the large living room, where the music was beating at his eardrums and he was bumped into at every turn. He had to be there somewhere. 

Sure enough, sitting on the edge of a chair by the bar was Dean’s brawny figure, leaning dangerously to one side. 

“Cas!” he grinned as he spotted him, raising his hands into the air. “Where have you been?”

“I was just talking to Benny.”

“Great guy, Benny. Really great guy.”

“Can we go outside?” Cas exclaimed, tired of raising his voice to make himself heard over the music. Dean nodded, taking his hand as they headed to the front door. 

The cold air seemed to help Dean sober up, and he gave Cas a confused look as he saw his expression. Cas was pretty sure he had never looked so upset as he walked straight past the fountain, letting go of Dean’s hand as he stopped. 

“Is it true?” he asked quietly, taking a step back as Dean reached for him. 

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” he smiled, visibly hiding the look of sorrow that always appeared when Cas didn’t want to be touched. 

“You’re a drug dealer? And your dad uses you as his punching bag?”

“Benny told you? He did, didn’t he?” Dean’s expression hardened as he spoke, his jaw clenched tight. He turned around, taking a step towards the fountain. In one quick motion he had picked up a handful of rocks from the ground, and with a roar he threw them towards the grove of trees that lined the courtyard. Cas froze, watching him pull himself together again. “Damn it,” he said quietly, head hanging limply towards the ground. 

“Why don’t you call the police and have him arrested?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? I can’t!” Dean snapped.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“What the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, my name is Dean, I like watching movies and oh, by the way, my dad’s a fucking drug dealer’. Kind of difficult to lead with that, wouldn’t you say?”

“At least it would have been better than hearing it from Benny!”

“Benny had no right to tell you! God, you really think the world is that simple? Right and wrong, truth and lies? What the hell does it matter who told you, now that you know? I didn’t tell you because it’s not your _fucking business_.”

“I didn’t-“

“You didn’t what? You knew damn well that I’ve been in prison. What, did you think that I stole some kid’s candy or something? Grow up.” 

“I didn’t know that you were capable of being such an ass.”

“Of course not, you thought I was some male version of Jo, ready to jump in and take her place. Have you even noticed that she’s dead?” Anger bloomed in Cas’s chest, seeping through his veins with every heartbeat, spreading like a drop of blood in water. He pulled the key from his pocket, the metal cold against his skin. Without a single word he tossed the keys towards Dean, not caring if they hit him in the process, and turned around, heading for the road. 

“You can’t be serious! Don’t walk away from me!” Dean yelled after him, but Cas kept walking. 

“Fuck you!” he reiterated over his shoulder, and ignored the words that were being cast in his direction. 

Ten minutes into his twelve-kilometer-route Cas remembered that he had left his coat at Michael’s mansion. The frosty wind nipped at his ears and filled his lungs with icy air. He shuddered and frantically pulled out his phone. 

“Nice timing, Cas. My shift just ended,” Jody greeted, her voice tired but warm. 

“Can you pick me up? I left the party.”

“Did something happen? Are you hurt?” Cas scoffed. Yes, something happened, Yes, he was hurt. Just not in the way Jody was asking about.

“I just want to go home. I’m at the crossing of Eddy Road and St Clair Avenue.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen. Sit tight.” 

Jody arrived twelve minutes after the phone call was ended. Cas got in the car without a word, immediately placing his hands on the heater. 

“Young man, where’s your coat? We’ve talked about this, you don’t want to get hypothermia again.”

“It’s still at Michael’s. I forgot it when I left.” Jody cast him a quick look, apparently pleased to see that his lips hadn’t turned purple. 

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Cas-“

“Please, Aunt J.” Cas knew that it was mean of him to use the nickname from when he was young and a phone call every other weekend was the only interaction he had with his favorite relative. Jody still melted every time she heard it. 

“Alright. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

They spent the rest of the trip in silence, and once they came home Cas basically collapsed on his bed, sleeping away half of the next day. 

During the next two weeks, Cas fell back to his pre-Dean-life. He went to the market with his friends, studied in the library on Wednesdays, and went for endless walks with Bucky, carefully avoiding the area around the Winchester house. 

Cas spotted Dean a few times in school, but he could never make himself approach him. 

On the Monday after Michael’s party, Zach pushed Cas into the lockers and called him names.

On Tuesday the jock had a black eye and a bruise on his nose, and he never so much as looked at Cas.

On Wednesday, Dean didn’t show up for their shared Literature class. In fact, he didn’t show up at all for the rest of the week. 

During the weekend, Cas spent hours thinking about going to see Dean. Maybe he would apologize, and maybe Dean would apologize. Cas stayed at home. 

On Monday morning Cas had made up his mind: he was going to sit next to Dean and talk to him.

But Dean never came. 

No one mentioned the absence of Dean’s presence. In fact, no one mentioned him at all. 

“My dad somehow got the idea that he was going to bake last night,” Kevin sighed. They sat in the middle of the cafeteria, crowded around a table made for six chairs. The sixth chair had been borrowed by a guy at the table next to them, leaving a gaping hole of emptiness in front of Meg. She had turned towards the others, but it was painfully obvious nonetheless. 

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Kevin popped the “p” as he said the word, gaining Cas’s attention as well.

“The very complex Brüle pudding was finished at 11pm, and the kitchen was a _mess_.”

“Well, what did it taste like?” Meg was the only one who actually interacted with Kevin and showed some interest to his story, but Kevin didn’t seem to notice. 

“Burnt sugar,” he laughed, crinkling his nose. 

“At least he tried?” Meg chuckled, raising her glass towards her mouth. Cas turned his gaze towards his plate and picked up his fork. All that was left was four peppers, drenched in some sauce that had removed any interest Cas had had in eating them. 

He looked up, spotting Crowley at one of the tables in the back. Trying (and failing) to be inconspicuous, he craned his neck to identify who was sitting next to Crowley. Someone’s head was just blocking his view of whoever it was. If he only leaned a little more to the left, he’d-

“What are you doing?” Benny pondered, making Cas slowly return to his earlier position.

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Cas could hear Benny’s words without him saying them: _he’s not here_. Raising an eyebrow, Cas tried to form an expression that showed that he didn’t believe him. Whether Benny understood or not, Cas couldn’t know. 

“Kevin don’t you have some activity up your sleeve? It’s Tuesday for god’s sake,” Benny said at last, effectively changing the subject. Kevin brought his hands together with a clap, grinning mischievously. 

“It _is_ Tuesday, my dear fellows. And do you even need to ask?”

“So, what’s the plan?” Charlie chimed in.

“I was just about to tell you the plan!”

“So, tell us!”

“Alright, alright.” He paused dramatically, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure you all know that today’s the International Gingerbread Day-“

“There’s an International Gingerbread Day?” Meg interrupted, a grin spreading on her face.

“Yes, like I just said. Anyways, Cleveland’s Botanical Garden are hosting a Gingerbread House building competition!”

“And…?” Benny asked, his face the picture of confusion.

“And I’ve signed us up as a team! It begins at 5pm, which means that there’s plenty of time for preparations.”

“Preparations?”

“You know, a design of the house.” Everyone fell silent, stunned at how engrossed Kevin was in the coming event.

“A design, of course,” Meg said after a few intense moments of silence. 

“I was thinking somewhere along the lines of the Eiffel Tower,” Kevin mused. Cas let his gaze wander around his group of friends. An unexpected anger bloomed in his chest, one that he desperately tried to hold back. He’d already driven Dean away, there was no point in making his situation worse by getting mad at his friends too. 

“I know, how about the Statue of Liberty?”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” Cas yelled, standing up in the process. “She’s been dead for a MONTH, and you want to build a gingerbread house? What the hell?” His voiced dialed down a notch as some heads were turned in their direction. One part of him wanted everyone to hear, to understand why he was upset, to feel his pain. The other part of him just barked at him to shut up and not draw any attention to himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he squealed, fighting back the tears that had no business being there. “I’m sorry, I can’t pretend like everything’s alright.” 

If he had guessed which of his friends would speak first, he would have said Benny. Benny always had some soothing words, an explanation, something to make you feel at least a fraction closer to okay. Cas had not expected Kevin to be the one to speak up. 

“If she’d been here, this very moment, what would she have said?”

“She’s not here,” Cas snapped, a little too aggressively, but he didn’t have it in him to regret it. 

“Come on, what would she have said?”

“She’d have told us to go build the best fucking gingerbread house the world has ever seen.” Meg laughed softly, a sound consisting of both sorrow and happiness. 

“Exactly.”

“I can’t do it. Not today.”

“Cas-“

“Please, go there, build a house and make it awesome. I just want to be alone.” 

“If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find us,” Benny said, briefly placing a hand on Cas’s arm. 

“I’m just going to go somewhere quiet,” Cas muttered, quickly picking up his plate and glass before leaving an empty chair behind him. 

 

Cas really didn’t want to be alone. Instead, he went to a place he had thought about going to for one month and five days. 

A door led Cas from the first to the second of three parts of Stills, where the atmosphere changed drastically. The constant humming sound of hundreds of ongoing conversations vanished, replaced by the low and more comforting sound of desk chairs, printers and keyboards. Occasionally a voice uttered a few words, but not with the hysteria of trying to make itself heard. 

Cas sat on one of the six chairs in the corridor, waiting for the little lamp on the door in front of him to turn green instead of red. Green meant that it was okay to come inside. 

The corridor was quite an uncharismatic room. The walls were painted in a sickly yellowish hue, not quite yellow but not quite white either. 

A painting hung next to the wall. It was one of those abstract “see what you want to see” paintings. At first, Cas refused to look at it. He didn’t want to waste time and energy on trying to see something in the blurred red and blue lines. However, when the constant ticking of the clock became unbearable, he glued his gaze to the painting. 

There were red and blue lines. Wow. 

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, tilting his head unconsciously. Suddenly he saw it: the lines weren’t red and blue at all – they were blue and red!

He was getting bored really quickly. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. He could go home instead, catch up on some homework. 

The door opened and a boy, younger than Cas, stepped out. He cast a quick glance at Cas before scurrying off down the corridor. The sound of his footsteps was a sharp contrast to the mellow hum of the room. 

Red turned to green, and Cas stood up. Gritting his teeth, he knocked on the door. 

“Come on in,” a voice called from inside. 

 

In the seven minutes that it took for Mick Davis to introduce himself (after Cas asked him to) and get a cup of coffee from the teacher’s lounge, Cas had learned that he was 32 years old, had a wife, two cats and two daughters. Mick, who refused to be called “Mr.”-anything, was a fan of opera (thanks to his wife), Irish music (thanks to his British parents) and basically anything that had to do with his daughters. He was born in the US, but had just a hint of an British accent (again, thanks to his parents).   
With the “I heart my dad”-cup filled to the brim, Mick made himself comfortable on the chair that stood in front of Cas. 

“Alright, I’ve introduced myself. How about you repay me by doing the same?”

“My name is Cas Novak, I’m 18 years old. I live with my aunt, Jody, and her dog Bucky.”

“What kind of a dog is it?”

“German Shepherd.”

“Nice,” Mick stated, nodding to himself before saying, “please, continue.”

“Um, I don’t really have any hobbies or anything, I mostly spend time with my friends or watch movies. And study, of course.”

“Of course.” A grin broke out on Cas’s face as Mick spilled some coffee on his shirt and yelped from the heat. The guy was unlike any adult he had ever met: he seemed spontaneous and fun, not at all the way Cas had pictured him. More than anything, he felt like a friend. 

“I was born in Tennessee, but moved here a few months ago.” Cas shrugged as he finished, trying to come up with anything else to tell. “I guess that’s it,” he said at last, and Mick smiled appreciatively. 

“Nice to meet you, Cas. Now I’d like to know why you’re here.” 

That was a question Cas had not expected. Why was he there? His best friend had died, surely Mick was aware of that? Wasn’t Mick supposed to ask questions about how Cas was feeling, or what he was thinking? 

“Jo was my best friend.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“She was my _first_ best friend. And now she’s dead.” Cas worried his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of what to say. 

“Did you go to the funeral?” Mick asked quietly, Cas nodding in response. “Do you want to talk about her?”

After considering the question, Cas realized that Jo wasn’t the reason he needed to talk to someone. He was strangely at peace with her death, despite the fact that it hurt like hell every minute of every day. “Not really.” 

Mick drank some more coffee. There was a dark stain over his heart on his blue-checkered shirt.

“I’ve been getting to know Jo’s brother, Dean.” Mick raised his eyebrows at that, looking genuinely surprised. “He’s a really great guy, really devoted to everything he sets his mind on. And we…well…” Cas dodged, his cheeks blushing furiously from anger at his own insecurity. Working as one of the school’s three counselors probably meant that acceptance was printed on the inside of Mick’s eyelids. He would have counseled countless students with various sexual orientations. 

And still, it was so unbelievably difficult for Cas to say it out loud. 

“I guess we were…sort of…together, “ Cas mumbled, sneaking a look at Mick, who took a sip of coffee. 

“Are you ashamed of that?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then I’m curious about the stutter. Have you had it for a long time?”

It took a few moments for Cas’s brain to register the tone Mick was using, but as he did he groaned. _Irony_.

“Are you teasing me?” Cas snorted, tilting his head slightly. 

“Yes, Cas, I’m teasing you.”

“Not very successfully.”

“Come on, it was a little funny.”

“No, not really.” Mick did a pouty face at that, making Cas laugh and the tension leave his shoulders. 

“I think it’s a good thing, to have someone to trust when you’re dealing with grief. May I ask why you used past tense when you spoke of your relationship? Has it ended?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can do better than that. Has it ended?” Cas blew out the breath he had been holding, frowning deeply. 

“We had a fight, quite a bad one I’d say, and I haven’t talked to him since then.”

“When was it?”

“Last Friday.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” Mick asked with an open expression. He wanted to know, but he wasn’t going to push Cas into telling him. It felt good. Like it was on Cas’s terms. 

“You can’t repeat anything I say, right?”

“My lips are sealed,” Mick smiled, pulling his fingers along his lips as if zipping them shut. Cas shook his head, all the words that desperately wanted to come out nagging at his brain. He had to tell someone. 

So he did. 

After recapping every event that had taken place on the Friday of Michael’s party, including Dean’s absence from school, Cas leaned back in his chair. Mick had absorbed Cas’s story in silence, and now he just seemed to process what he had heard. 

Cas had left out some of the details of Dean’s situation, but he was pretty sure that he had been able to explain his dilemma to Mick. On the one hand, he was pissed at Dean for not telling him, and disappointed in him for what he had done. On the other hand, he believed that Dean had had quite a good reason for helping his dad, most likely something to do with his siblings. 

And lastly, Cas knew that whatever he had with Dean was something that you didn’t just throw away. He wanted more of him, more of them. 

“You mentioned that he’s been in prison?” Mick asked at last, quietly tapping his fingers on the edge of his cup. Cas nodded in affirmation. “I don’t know about you, but I think that means that he has gotten a second chance. He broke the law, and got the proper punishment. Society has forgiven him – can’t you do the same?”

“I never thought of it like that.” 

“Hey, there’s a reason my job exists!” Mick exclaimed with a shrug.

“What about his dad? I don’t think he’s stopped.”

“Dean is not his dad. He has chosen to live with him, for reasons I can’t fathom, but that does not define who he is. You know what I think you should do?”

“Go bury myself beneath a mountain of blankets and sorrow?”

“Talk to him. Tell him you’re sorry.” Cas instinctively wrinkled his nose. There were many things he would consider doing – eating ice cream or watching a movie, just to mention two – but talking to Dean was not one of them. Of course he had thought about it. However, an unsettling feeling of fear had lodged itself in the same part of his brain that contained everything concerning Dean, and he had a difficult time parting the two things from each other. 

Dean was dangerous, but at the same time he was Jo’s brother and a complete dork. 

“He won’t listen to me,” Cas tried at last, but all he was met with was a determined smile. 

“Make him listen. If he cares about you he will.”

“I don’t know.” They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mick quickly glanced at his sports-wrist-watch. 

“I’m afraid I have an appointment,” he revealed, standing up which made Cas stand up as well. With his hand on the door handle, Mick said, “I advise you to talk to him, or at least send him a message of some sort. If you want to I would like to talk to you again, this has been most interesting. My email’s on the website, if you want to book an appointment.” 

“Thank you,” Cas said sheepishly, a little surprised by the abrupt ending of their talk. 

Cas left the room as another student entered it, and soon he found himself alone in the corridor once again. A teacher walked by with aplastic container in her hand, which had presumably had her lunch in it. He’d missed his last lesson of the day, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

All he could care about was Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

When Dean closed his eyes and drifted towards a semi-unconscious state, accompanied by Queen out of all the bands crammed into his Spotify account, he knew that John was going to wake him up a few hours later. He knew that his entire night was going to be spent at Asmodeus’s, then in a car, and then at home being kept awake by his screaming father instead of sleeping. 

At the moment, he was perfectly content with just listening to Freddie Mercury’s voice going straight to his heart along with the deafeningly loud guitar riff. The music was too loud to let him sleep, which was kind of the point. He hadn’t really slept in a week, but he hadn’t really been awake either. In fact, his mind wouldn’t let him do anything. Music helped a little, but it was a mere distraction from the silent turmoil that ruled in his chaotic brain. 

A voice called through the house. Was he home alone? He did not know.

All he knew was that he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave his bed. 

≤•≥

Cas’s evening walk with Bucky somehow led the two of them to West 50 th street. He hadn’t planned on going there. At least not on the very same day that he had had his talk with Mick. 

The Winchester’s house was drowning in darkness. A streetlight in front of it had died, or been deliberately broken by someone. Probably the latter. 

The house looked empty. Not that Cas should care. Or should he? He did not know. 

All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to face Dean. Not yet.

≤•≥

Sam watched as Cas turned away from the house, his heart dropping all the way down to his heels. He didn’t know much about love, which Dean was sure to remind him of, but he knew what his brother had right in front of him. And he was frustrated at him for letting go of it.

With a sigh he began making his way towards the house. Cas’s back was already growing smaller as the distance between them grew. 

Suddenly Bucky sharpened his ears and let out a sharp bark, eyes glued to the grey house. Cas pulled tiredly at the leash. He wanted to go home. 

Sam heard the shout of pain just as Bucky took a huge leap, tearing the leash out of Cas’s hands, and with a speed that was beyond Cas the dog darted to the house. He ran in circles around the building, barking angrily at one of the windows. 

Sam reached the front door before Cas did, and unlocked the door in a haste. Bucky pushed his way into the house before Sam could open the door enough for himself to go inside, and the barks turned to snarls and growls and more shouts. And then, silence.

≤•≥

Cas followed Sam into the house. Bucky had gone silent, but Cas couldn’t decide whether he thought that was good or bad. Good, because it could mean that whatever had happened was over. Bad, because something might have happened to the dog. 

Sam stopped him in the hall, still wearing both his shoes and his coat. 

“They’re both alright,” he whispered, so quietly that Cas had to lean forwards to distinguish his words. 

“I’d like to see that for myself,” Cas snapped, keeping the same volume as Sam. He suspected that there was a reason behind the young Winchester’s caution, and he suspected that that reason was upstairs at the moment.

Cas made a move towards Dean’s bedroom, but Sam stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his way. 

“Dean’s been really down all week. He-“ Sam swallowed, cringing a little. “His head is not in a good place right now, and I don’t think seeing you will help him. I’ll go get Bucky for you.”

“I want to see him. Please, Sam.”

“He doesn’t want to see you.” 

Cas felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. 

≤•≥

Dean heard every word. No matter how quietly you spoke in the house the voices would still be carried through the cracks between the doors and the floors, strangely loud. 

Cas was there, which was logical since Dean was currently burying his face in Bucky’s fur. The brave German Shepherd had rushed in and stopped John from breaking Dean’s nose. 

Sam was speaking. _Dean’s been really down all week_. Hah. That was a bit of an understatement. He had crawled through what had felt like a constant hangover, only to come out feeling worse than before. Every second something exploded behind his eyelids and made his insides catch on fire, and there was no way he could put it out except by provoking John to make him knock him unconscious.

Dean would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to blame Cas for how he was feeling at the moment. However, he was still reasonable enough to see that it wasn’t Cas’s fault – he had only been unlucky enough to meet him and challenge him at a time when his mind was too unrestricted to be challenged. Dean had never had a reason to gain control over his thoughts, and therefore he had never tried. And now every wall he had subconsciously put up came crashing down simultaneously. 

Sam was speaking again. _He doesn’t want to see you_. That was both true and false at the same time. He wanted to shut his door and keep the world at the other side of it, including Cas. However, a fragile sliver inside him wanted to let the outside in and feel alive again, to feel like he could be someone. To feel loved. 

Cas was on the other side of that door. So was Sam. 

So was John. 

And at the center of it all there was Jo, dead and alive and still pulling him to his feet.

She had been the first one he’d told about being bisexual. She had supported him then, and given him the necessary push towards being honest with himself and the people around him. 

If she was here now, she would have done the same thing again. 

_Be honest, Dean. If there’s nothing else you can do, at least be honest._

Nonexistent hands grabbed his and suddenly he was standing. Bucky was pressed against his leg, looking up at him with his wise eyes. 

≤•≥

Cas and Sam’s quiet discussion was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Sam shot a look towards the staircase, but there had been no footsteps moving on the second floor. 

Pale and looking as if he had not slept for about a decade, Dean approached them, closely followed by Bucky. He smiled at Sam. Then his eyes met Cas’s, and he quickly stumbled towards him, his sight blinded by tears. 

Feeling Dean’s arms wrapped around him again was heaven. Cas took it in during a split second, before he returned the gesture and held on as tightly as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m so sorry,” Cas mumbled into the side of his neck, proud of being able to say the words. Because he _was_ sorry. He was sorry for jumping to conclusions instead of talking to Dean first. He was sorry for being so quick to judge his friend. 

Most importantly, he was sorry for walking away. 

“I’m sorry too,” Dean breathed, and Cas’s neck got drowned in salt water but it didn’t matter. 

They kissed, and Sam made a gagging noise to tease them, and they kissed some more. For a moment they could forget about school and prison and abusive fathers and mental breakdowns and dead sisters. For a moment, time was irrelevant and a kiss was enough. 

≤•≥

Dean knew that reality would catch up sooner or later. He knew that John would hear their voices and come downstairs again. 

He did not know that his father had the ability to sneak up on them, or that neither of them would notice him until he had grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair and his little brother had let out a yelp of pain and surprise. 

Dean reacted on pure instinct, and pushed Cas behind himself to get him away from the danger that was his father. 

Cas had grabbed Bucky’s collar to keep him from attacking John. While Dean would have appreciated the help, he knew that Jody could get into all kinds of trouble if John decided to report his dog bites. 

Instead, Dean did what he usually did – he tried to redirect John’s attention towards himself. He would have succeeded, if Sam hadn’t chosen that exact moment to fulfill his wish to ease Dean’s suffering. 

Sam twisted around in John’s grip, struggling wildly to get free and aimed a kick at his dad’s shin. John responded by letting go for a split second before landing an incredible punch right in Sam’s guts, making the kid double over and clutch his stomach. Furious, Dean grabbed John’s shirt to pull him away, but he wasn’t able to until after Sam’s nose had been rewarded with a mighty blow and blood was seeping down his face. 

Dean tuned into survival mode, and blocked John’s every punch with an impressive speed. He sacrificed a second of concentration by casting a glance at Sam, and was therefore unable to avoid the steel fist that crashed into his ribs. 

“Get him out of here!” Dean yelled to Cas, pointing at Sam’s crumpled form on the floor. He could only hope that Cas followed his instructions as he shoved John into the kitchen. 

“Come on, Dean, let’s go!” Cas exclaimed, and Dean used John’s disorientation to look at his friend. Cas was supporting the conscious but shaken Sam with one arm, his other arm holding up a car key towards Dean. 

They could leave. 

_They had nowhere to go._

Yes, they did. 

Dean picked up Sam as if he weighed nothing, looped Bucky’s leash around his hand and kicked the door open. He marched to the car, helping Sam and Bucky get into the back seat as he heard Cas’s running steps behind him. 

“You, drive,” he said shortly, already getting into the passenger’s seat. Cas obeyed with no more than a moment’s hesitation, and if it hadn’t been for his aching ribs and beaten brother in the back seat, Dean would have made some snarky comment about Cas driving the Impala. 

With the way he was feeling now, all Dean could do was press his head against the headrest and hope that he wasn’t going to throw up inside the car. 

 

Sam claimed that he was alright, but Dean knew all too well what getting punched in the stomach felt like. After tucking his brother in on the sofa in Cas’s living room, he was tempted to follow his own advice. 

However, Cas had questions. And Dean didn’t have it in him to leave them unanswered.

He wasn’t exactly going to be able to fall asleep anyways.

They sat at the kitchen table, Dean with his back towards the front door and facing the living room where Sam was snoozing. The light from the ceiling lit up Cas’s eyes into an incredible deep blue shade. 

“So…” Cas sighed, wringing his hands in front of him. Dean wished that he would stop. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, leaning forwards to rest his head in his hands. God, he wanted to sleep. He wanted to _be able_ to sleep. 

“I guess it’s official then,” Cas said happily, and Dean had to blink hard a few times to make sure that he was awake. 

“What?” he muttered, frowning so deeply that it felt as if it would become a permanent expression. 

“That I’m a better driver than you.” 

Dean took a beat at that, and replayed the words in his head. Finally, when the letters made sense and only traces of Cas’s smile could be seen on his lips, Dean caught up – and then he burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. He laughed until tears formed in his eyes, the good kind this time around. His laughter was loud and unrestrained, and he didn’t have to worry about disturbing John or feeling ridiculous, because Cas was laughing even harder and they were not on West 50 th street anymore. 

“Out of all the fucking things you could have said, you decided to go with ‘I’m a better driver’?” Dean squealed, letting the joy spread throughout his entire body. 

As the laughter slowly died off, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. 

“You have questions,” he smiled, and made a little waving motion with his hands as if to say ‘bring it on’. 

“Did you punch Zach?” was what Cas asked first, and Dean laughed shortly, recalling the events from a week earlier. 

“I did.”

“Thank you?”

“I’m kind of glad you phrased that as a question.”

“I’m kind of glad that you did it.”

“He had it coming.”

“You can ask me something too, if you want to.”

“Kick pro code?”

“Quid pro quo.”

“That’s what I said,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. He appreciated the offer, but felt that he owed Cas a few answers. He was just about to decline it as a question came to his mind. “What were you doing outside my house today?” Cas blushed, and Dean found that the red cheeks of his friend was something that he had missed. 

“I was going to talk to you, but then I sort of changed my mind.” 

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Where have you been all week?” 

“At home.”

“Duh.”

“I’ve been lying in my bed listening to music, in a failed attempt at shutting out the world. What would you have told me if you had had the guts to come inside?” Cas stuck his tongue out at the tease, but replied anyways. 

“I would have apologized.” 

“You did, when you finally showed.” 

“How have you been able to eat if you’ve been in bed all week?” 

“I-“

“He hasn’t eaten anything except two apples and one grill sandwich,” Sam called from the living room, and now it was Dean’s turn to blush. He enjoyed the quick exchange of questions and answers that they had set up, since the opportunity to ask Cas anything he could think of was enough to distract him from the truths he was sharing. When Sam answered for him, the truth somehow seemed more real.

Especially since Cas’s eyes grew two sizes at the revelation, and he did a double take. 

“For real?” Dean shrugged indifferently, and of course his stomach decided that now was a good time to make itself heard. A low grumble ripped through Dean’s guts regardless of his every attempt at stopping it. 

“Do you want something to eat?” Cas asked gently, as if he already knew that the answer was going to be ‘no’. 

“Look, I really suck at sorting through my…feelings, and shit like that. Which you’ve probably noticed by now. And after Jo, and Michael’s party, it all became a little too much. I’m not going to say that it’s all over now, because it really isn’t, but I feel better at the moment. I’m just going to hold on to that for as long as I can.”

“Dean-“

Dean shook his head at the interruption. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to have to tell Cas that it wasn’t his fault, because Cas already knew that. 

“Thank you for getting us out of there,” he murmured, hoping that Cas would follow his lead and change the subject. 

“You can stay for as long as you like,” the dark-haired boy said with a gentle smile. 

“I can’t ask that of your aunt. We’ll go back later tonight, when John’s asleep.” Dean was sure he could hear Sam’s breath hitch at his words. He wasn’t too keen on going home, but at least he knew that he could fight back. For Sam, going back meant returning to a house of chaos and violence, and a truly frightening place – Dean had never given much thought to how awful it really was, but he was damn sure that Sam had. 

His brother was tired of falling asleep and waking up in a house where he didn’t feel safe, because there was only so much Dean could do. He could keep John away from Sam, but he couldn’t change the fact that the one person who was supposed to take care of them had betrayed them.

How could he be stupid and selfish enough to bring his brother back to such a place?

“Can Sam crash on the couch tonight? I’d feel better if I knew that there was a doctor under the same roof.”

“You can both stay,” Cas tried again, but somehow he could sense that it was a lost cause. 

“I have to check up on dad. But I’ll come tomorrow morning with some clean clothes.” With those words Dean stood up and took a glance at Sam’s half-sleeping body on the living room couch before he ended up on the floor in front of the door putting his shoes on.

“Are you coming to school tomorrow?” Cas asked carefully, offering Dean a hand to help him get to his feet. Once he was standing he was a little taller than Cas, which he only noticed because Cas’s head was tilted up towards his face. 

“You’rebeautiful,” Dean whispered, effectively diverting Cas’s attention from his question with a simple truth. Rosy cheeks flushed red, and blue eyes turned towards their feet. Slowly, Dean captured Cas’s lips, still a bit of an unexplored world, but one Dean was desperate to become an expert on. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cas mumbled as they drifted apart, Dean getting closer and closer to the door. A lopsided grin formed on his lips, and he fought to make it reach his eyes. The knowledge that there were so many things that could happen to keep them from seeing each other the next day scared Dean so much more than knowing that he might have to break the law tonight again. However, he couldn’t tell Cas that.

He couldn’t tell him that it felt as though the scars on his torso had been drenched in gasoline and then set alight. He couldn’t tell him that he didn’t want to drive the car home because of the gut-wrenching nausea inside him. 

“See you,” was all that he said. 

 

Dean threw up what was left in his empty stomach on the sidewalk in front of his house. Hopefully the darkness was enough to hide him from his neighbors.   
John was in the kitchen. Five opened bottles of beer stood on the table, and he had one in his hand. 

“Hey, dad,” Dean said gently, hovering in the doorway.

“Sit down,” John replied, his tone not especially friendly but at least it wasn’t angry.

“I need you to drive tonight.” Dean bowed his head down, promptly ignoring his spiking pulse. How he wished that he didn’t have to drive his dad around with a boatload of drugs in the car. He didn’t want to break the law. He didn’t want to go back to prison. 

He didn’t want to see the look on Cas’s face when his friend learned that he was still working for Asmodeus. 

“Please don’t make me,” Dean breathed, too afraid to form the words properly. John heard them anyways. 

“Don’t _make_ you? Who the hell are you to talk like that?”

“Dad, I don’t want to go back to prison. I want to stop doing this.”

“ _This_? Has driving a car from A to B become too much for you? You know what, you weak piece of shit, I’ll drive myself. You’re fucking useless.” 

Dean cringed at every word. He was used to hear them, he couldn’t remember a time when John’s voice hadn’t been edged with anger and insults, but it still hurt. It hurt him so much to feel unwanted, unneeded. As if he was nothing but a waste of space.   
Tears burned behind his eyelids, but Dean angrily blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t help him. Not when John got to his feet unsteadily and motioned at him to do the same. 

Tears wouldn’t stop a fist from breaking his ribs. 

“Dad, please,” Dean cried after the millionth punch. He was on the floor. He had never liked being on the floor, but at the moment he welcomed the steadiness of it. 

Amazingly, John stopped, if only for a split second. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” he spat, the toe of his right boot digging into Dean’s back. Dean didn’t scream. He just pulled his legs up towards his torso, shuddering as the next kick hit his spine. 

Four words. That was all it would take to make him stop. Dean wished he was strong enough to take the pain until it made him pass out.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t. 

“I will do it,” he croaked, repeating the words in a shout when John didn’t hear. 

The effect was immediate. John stepped away with a satisfied leer, and plucked the last beer from the table. 

“We leave in thirty minutes. Get yourself cleaned up till then.” The heavy steps left the kitchen and headed into the living room, and soon after the sound of the TV spread through the house. 

Dean took a shaky breath. Then he pulled his broken body into the bathroom and heaved up whatever was left in his stomach.

The sight that met him in the mirror wasn’t pretty, however he hadn’t exactly expected it to be. His face had made it with no more than a bloody nose and a sore chin, while his body ached in too many places. His hands had already been a mess from getting cut on the glass, but now some of the healing wounds had reopened and red spots were blooming on the previously white bandages. 

Dean sat on the edge of the bathtub and held his hands in front of him, staring at them with glazed eyes. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been in pain. He couldn’t remember a time when some part of him hadn’t hurt. All of his memories were accompanied by some injury, or the phantom pains that flared up in his scars. Just thinking about it caused a burning sensation to form on his chest, and he rubbed it furiously.

“It’s not real,” he mumbled, and closed his eyes to take a deep and focused breath, however his lungs refused to cooperate and soon he was gasping for air. 

With the lack of oxygen came the same thoughts as always, pounding away at his skull. 

_Jo is dead._

“Stop it,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with bloody fingers. 

_Jo had been killed, and it was his fault._

“Not my fault,” he said hollowly, burying his face in his hands. Tears got mixed with blood, and slowly dripped down onto the cracked tiles on the floor. There wasn’t a single memory left of Jo in his mind that he didn’t associate with pain and sorrow.

Everything that had made her into who she was had been destroyed. She had never laughed. 

Or had she? Dean couldn’t tell. He could only see her jump the guy who had been knocking Dean senseless to get him to stop. 

The blankness of her eyes when the bullets had ripped their way through her body. 

A single chime erupted from his left pocket, and he somehow found the strength to pull out his phone. 

**Jody asked if you’re too scared of her to sleep over. I told her it was true.**

Dean knew that the text was from Cas without having to read the name of the contact at the top of the screen. And like that every image of Jo floated away, every dark thought faded out, as if someone turned the volume down gradually. After sending a quick reply he got to his feet and returned to the sink. A splash of cold water on his face was enough to wake his soggy brain again, and after bracing himself he unlocked the bathroom door and went to the living room. 

He was going to drive John, and he wasn’t going to be a jerk about it. He’d done it hundreds of times before without getting caught, what were the odds of the police getting them this night out of all nights? 

Dean had made up his mind: he was going to save himself some pain by keeping his mouth shut for once. 

He made it through the meeting at Asmodeus’s, where John was given a pack of books that Dean had to carry. 

He didn’t say a word when Asmodeus asked when Sam was going to join them, although he got the urge to crack his nose just for suggesting it. Asmodeus was never going to meet Sam. 

Dean didn’t jump in with some snarky comment when John told him that he drove like a ‘goddamn grandma’. He didn’t chastise John for drinking in the car, or turning the radio off while it was playing ACDC. 

Dean did good. He was silent. John didn’t smash his head against the steering wheel, because Dean didn’t provoke him. 

He did good.

But then they got to their last stop of the night. And their last stop was Lisa’s. 

Her security guard opened the door, the dark rings under his eyes showing that he was late into his shift. 

Usually, Dean would stay in the car while John went with the deliveries, but for some inexplicable reason John wanted Dean’s company this night. Dean wasn’t really one to question him. 

They stepped into the great hall together, John in front and Dean right in his footsteps. Lisa emerged from the living room doors, blond hair a mess on her head and her makeup slightly smudged. 

“About time,” she muttered, roughly grabbing the books from John’s hands. Dean tracked her movements back to the living room, and flinched at the animal-like rumble of voices that followed. He cast a glance at John, but his father was still looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched angrily. 

When Lisa returned, she looked considerably more alert, and a smile played on her face. 

“The crew was getting a bit anxious in there, I promised them the delivery would be here by midnight,” she mused, clearly not wanting to show that she was upset.

“Apologies, ma’am. We had a lot of stops tonight,” John said plainly, and Dean was amazed at how polite his voice was. However, there was a look in his eyes that was dangerously dark, and probably the reason Lisa didn’t invite them for a drink, which was her usual custom. 

She pulled out a bundle of dollar bills and placed them in John’s waiting hand. 

“Tell Asmodeus that he might want to rethink his priorities. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” 

“Of course,” John replied, bowing his head as he took a step back towards the door. 

“And how are you doing my dear? You were quite out of it last time,” Lisa asked, turning to Dean with a brilliant smile. She frowned a little as she took him in, reaching a hand out to touch the bruises on his face. ”Still looking worse for wear, my darling.” 

“I’m alright,” he replied, expecting the kiss but still surprised by it. 

He was even more surprised when John’s strong hands grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and yanked him away from Lisa’s soft touch. 

“We’ve got to go,” he grumbled, physically pushing Dean towards the front door. 

“Take it easy with him, Winchester,” Lisa yelled after them, and there was no doubting which one of them she was referring to. 

 

John drove the car. Dean didn’t even have to be asked to give him the key. 

They dropped the car off at Asmodeus’s garage, the streets empty due to the late hour. In his mind, Dean was already at home and because of that, it took him a few moments to realize that John had led him in on the wrong street. 

“Where the hell are we going?”

There were no streetlights illuminating the sidewalk, no chance of a late night stroller passing by. It was the perfect place to commit a crime with no risk of witnesses. 

The punch held enough force to knock Dean to the ground. He hit the concrete hard but immediately tried to get up again. 

“Dad-“

“Don’t you “dad” me! I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but my son ain’t it. All night you’ve failed me! All your life you’ve failed me!” John pulled him to his feet, only to knock him back down. This time, there were no wooden doors for Dean to hide behind, no Cas to get him out of there. It was just him and John. 

And John had the upper hand. 

He hit him again, and again, and again, and again, and there was nothing left for Dean to do but let it happen. The fight had gone out of him completely. 

He felt how his skin was cut open by the golden wedding ring on John’s left hand. 

He felt how bone cracked underneath John’s steel foot.

He felt how his guts were hit by John’s fist with enough force to tear them out of his body.

Then he didn’t feel anything. He blinked. 

John towered above him. 

He closed his eyes. 


	15. Chapter 15

Jody was working the night shift, but Cas wasn’t too worried about that. Sam had fallen asleep mere minutes after Dean had left, refusing to take Jody’s bed. He claimed that the couch was more than enough, and Cas couldn’t really force him to sleep somewhere else.   


After getting ready for bed, Cas sent off a text to his aunt, just to let her know that Sam was going to sleep there for a few nights. Judging by the look on Dean’s face when he’d asked if Sam could stay there just the one night, Cas knew that the least he could do was offer him more nights in peace. Jody’s response made Cas laugh out loud:   


**So Dean doesn’t want to sleep over? He’s afraid of me, isn’t he?  
**

Cas informed Dean of Jody’s question, his mind a little more at peace once he got a reply. Dean was alright. At least at the moment.   


The next morning, Cas woke up early. He hadn’t set an alarm, because he was _not_ going to school, so the whole aspect of waking up before his brain wanted to wake up annoyed him deeply.  


The house was quiet. Why had he woken up?  


The answer to his question came four seconds later, when someone knocked on the door.  


Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Cas reached for his phone. 8:30am. Jody’s shift didn’t end until 9am.   


Remnants of his conversation with Dean the night before returned, and he remembered him saying that he would stop by with some clothes for Sam.   


With a deep groan Cas put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and hiked to the door, stubbing his toe on the dog-stopping-barrier and nearly tripping on a pillow that had been left on the floor.   


Once he opened the front door he was blinded by the brilliant sunlight outside.   


“Good morning,” he muttered, his voice not quite ready for speech yet.   


The voice that replied did not belong to Dean.   


“Good morning, Cas.”  


The voice belonged to Naomi. He hadn’t heard it in seven months, but before then he’d heard it every day by the breakfast table, every day in the car on the way to school. He’d heard it yelling angry words at him, and speaking softly the way it was doing now.   


“Can I come in?” Naomi said gently, a small smile turning up the corners of her eyes.   


“Sure.” Cas let her inside and watched as she took her shoes off and hung her coat above one of Jody’s. For some reason he was upset with how well it seemed to fit in.  


“I wasn’t planning on barging in on you like this, I thought you’d be at school.”  


“Well I’m not,” Cas bit back, staying in his spot between the hallway and the kitchen. Naomi took a step away from the door and leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest in a way that made her look so much like their mother.   


“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Naomi teased, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. It was such a familiar gesture, and one Cas hadn’t realized that he’d missed. Because he had missed her, and Samandriel, and even Rachel some days. No matter what he told himself he had lived with them for eighteen years of his life.   


However, it didn’t change the fact that they had let him suffer through years and years of violence and abuse.   


“Why the hell are you here?” Cas snapped at last, boring his eyes into his sister’s. She didn’t react to the curse.   


“I was sent to New York to work, figured I’d stop by on the way back home. I haven’t heard from you in months!” 

“I changed my number.”

“Clearly. I take it you deleted all of your old contacts as well?”

“There weren’t any ones worth keeping.” 

“That was a bit harsh,” Naomi muttered with a frown identical to Cas’s. 

“What do you want?” Cas asked, his voice tired. He didn’t want to see her, nor the memories that she brought with her. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. Mom and dad don’t know that I’m here, we’re not even allowed to talk about you at home.” 

“Well, we don’t talk about you either, so I guess we’re even.”

“Cas,” she whispered. Her voice, her eyes, her smooth features, it was all too much. Cas turned his back on her to hide the tears that forced themselves out into the fresh air. “Tell me that you aren’t even 1% happy to see me, and I’ll leave.”

He swallowed hard. 

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” he cried, pulling his hands up to cover his face as Naomi pulled him into an embrace that he had longed for, for far too long. He drilled his nose into her shirt, recognizing the hint of her perfume. So much had changed since they last saw each other, but so many things were still the same. 

 

Cas left Naomi to wash his face from the tears, and when he returned she was standing hesitantly in the living room, watching the confused Sam on the couch. Sam nodded a “morning” to Cas before turning his gaze back to Naomi. 

“Is this your…um…boyfriend?” she stuttered, looking pointedly at Sam, who burst out a laugh. 

“No, of course not,” Cas replied, a look of relief quickly spreading through Naomi’s features. He was almost sorry for the next words he said: “He’s my boyfriend’s brother.”

Naomi took a beat at that, her eyes flickering between the two of them. 

“So you have a boyfriend?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just curious I guess,” she admitted, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m Naomi, Cas’s oldest sister,” she continued, turning towards Sam with a smile. 

“Sam,” he replied, giving her a little wave. Cas gritted his teeth as he saw the bruise on his cheek, knowing all too well how much it must hurt. He gave Sam a look that the kid interpreted correctly, and he quickly got to his feet.

“I’m going to take a shower, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, there are towels in the bottom drawer in the bathroom,” Cas explained, and watched Sam disappeared through the house. “Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?” Naomi grinned, and followed Cas into the kitchen. 

“I’d love some breakfast.” She took a seat by the little dining table and let Cas take care of making grilled sandwiches, a breakfast tradition that Jody shared with Cas’s dad, and something that Cas had eaten his entire life. 

“Do you drink coffee now?”

“I do,” Cas replied shortly, brewing a pot as they spoke. 

“Seven months, and it feels like years since I last saw you.” Cas closed his eyes.  
Memories that he didn’t want to dig up were being reawakened, and he couldn’t decide whether to ask Naomi to get out of the house or just play along until she decided to leave. Neither of the options satisfied him completely. 

“What do you want, Naomi? For real this time. Are you here to take me back?”

“Don’t you want to come home?”

“I _am_ home.” Naomi laughed at that, shaking her head slowly. 

“You call Jody’s shed your home?”

“You’re unbelievable! Ten minutes and you’ve already managed to insult Jody?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Naomi actually looked a little regretful, but Cas knew her too well to know that it was an apology for upsetting him, not for what she’d said.

“I’m not coming back to Parson, not ever. Do you want to know the reason why you think I’ve changed so much? It’s because I can be myself here, instead of some oppressed façade without opinions. I get to live my life here, and I have friends!”

“You had friends-“

“No I didn’t, and you know that. I didn’t even have any friends at home when you found out that I was gay.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“That I’m gay? Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” Naomi broke their eye contact, stubbornly looking at her hands. She’d come all the way to Cleveland to see him, and now he was unleashing his anger over what his family had done on her when they all deserved to hear it. 

“Yes, Cas. It makes me uncomfortable, but at least I’m here,” she said quietly at last, daring to look up again. Her voice sounded so genuine, but Cas couldn’t believe her. He couldn’t differentiate between her lies and the truth.

Listlessly he placed a cup in front of her, without taking any note of which one he’d picked. When he glanced at it, he immediately recognized the simple green patterns that probably didn’t look like much to anyone, however it punched a hole through Cas’s guts. Jo had always chosen that green cup. 

_What was her favorite color?_

_Green._

“You alright?” Naomi asked, noticing his distress. It was only then that Cas realized what a chaotic time Naomi had chosen to finally visit, seeing as his best friend had just died and his boyfriend was going through something of a mental breakdown. He also realized that Naomi didn’t know any of that. Most likely she thought that his life was pretty much the same, maybe a little less violent, as it had been in Parson. 

She didn’t know how loved Cas felt, how _at home_ he was. He belonged with Jody, his only relative who had treated him with respect. Jody was his family now, just as Naomi had been a part of his family then.

“I’m glad you came. I really am. But if you were expecting something other than just seeing me, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

“Just seeing you is good enough. Do you know when Jody is coming home?” Cas checked the clock on the wall and was pleased to see that it had passed 9am, meaning that his aunt’s shift was over. 

“Fifteen minutes or so. I’ll call her and give her a heads up.” He pulled out three plates and carefully placed one grilled sandwich on each, carrying them all to the table. 

“You do that, and I’ll look for milk.”

“Fridge,” Cas mumbled, unlocking his phone to locate Jody’s phone number.

“Duh.” 

With a smile Cas watched as Naomi looked through the fridge. The straight line that her red hair ended in showed that she had cut it recently. The golden ring on the fourth finger of her left hand showed that she had gotten engaged – presumably to Gadreel Penikett, but Cas couldn’t be sure. He’d have to ask her. She wasn’t particularly tall, but the way she walked around the kitchen made it feel like she filled the entire room, and her feet looked strangely flat now that they weren’t crammed into a pair of high heels. 

Everything about her reminded him of their mother. Blue eyes that were quick to judge, tanned skin and fine features. She was at least a head shorter than Cas, but he’d always felt like she was looking down at him. He wondered if that would ever change.

The screen on his phone had turned black again, so he unlocked it a second time. Jody’s number was waiting. 

“ _Hello, you’ve reached Jody Mills. I can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I’ll call you back!”_

Cas lowered the phone. Had he gotten the time wrong? He checked the schedule that Jody had put up on the fridge door, but it only told him what he already knew: that her shift ended at 9am. 

“No reply?” Naomi asked, taking a sip from the green-patterned cup. 

“I’m trying again,” Cas stated as he pressed the phone to his ear. A knot of worry formed in his stomach, loosening a bit as the call went through. Jody _always_ answered the phone. 

“ _This is Hester on Jody’s phone, how can I help you_?”

Not Jody. Not good. However, Cas had met Hester a few times, as she was one of Jody’s closest friends. He felt like he knew her well enough to at least get some answers from her.

“Hello, Hester, this is Cas. Is Jody around? I need to speak to her.”

“ _I’m sorry, Cas, she was just about to leave when they brought in an emergency. I’m afraid she’ll be stuck here for a while. Is there something I can- hang on_ ,” Hester exclaimed, interrupting herself. Cas patiently listened to the silence, hearing some commotion in the background along with Jody’s voice. 

Jody’s worried voice. 

_Not good_.

“ _Cas!_ ” Jody nearly yelled his name. Then he could hear how she took a deep breath, then another, and when she spoke again her voice was calm. “ _You need to come to the hospital. Dean was just brought here by an ambulance.”_

“What? What’s wrong with him?” 

“ _I’m sorry, I don’t have time to talk, we’re taking him into surgery now. Just get yourself and Sam over here, I’ll have Hester meet you by the entrance_.” 

“Alright,” Cas said weakly, his brain conjuring up every possible catastrophe that could have happened to Dean since their parting the night before. Most of his theories were connected to John in one way or another. 

 

Naomi went with them to the hospital, and Cas was immensely grateful that she was there to get a cab, tell the driver where to drive (after Cas explained at what hospital Jody worked) and stay behind to pay while Cas and Sam rushed to the doors to where Hester was waiting. 

“Come on, let’s go inside,” was the first thing she said, and without waiting she headed into the building. They ended up in a typical waiting room with well-worn but comfortable chairs, some of which were occupied. Cas and Sam took one chair each, and Hester planted her feet in front of them. 

“Dean was brought in with some broken bones, cuts and extensive internal bleeding, which is what they’re trying to fix through surgery as we speak. He’s been in for fifteen minutes, but there’s no telling how long it will take.”

“Will he be alright?” Sam asked, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Hester gave him a wide smile and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“We’re doing everything we can. Just sit tight and I’ll come back in a while with a new update.” 

She left just as Naomi arrived, who took a seat next to Cas. 

“What did she tell you? Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes. He is,” Cas replied, ruffling Sam’s hair. The young Winchester didn’t look so sure. 

Time went agonizingly slowly. The longer Cas stared at the colorful numbers on the clock, the more insignificant they became. 

First Jo.

Now Dean. 

Five minutes became ten. Ten minutes became twenty. 

Cas stopped counting. 

Sam leaned forwards, resting his head on his knees and rocking back and forth a little. He was mumbling a string of incomprehensible words. Cas didn’t know if he should stop him. 

Naomi bought a granola bar in the vending machine and offered it to Cas, whose grilled sandwich still lay untouched at home. He couldn’t eat.

Cas’s every thought ultimately led to ones of Dean. How he had made him laugh again after his best friend had died. How he could turn from stone serious to brilliantly goofy in a split second. How he made Cas feel seen, and alive. Like his existence was worth something. 

It broke Cas’s heart to know that with how bad he was feeling, Sam was probably feeling a million times worse. If – Cas barely dared to think of it – Dean didn’t make it, Sam’s entire way of life would be over. 

Cas wondered if Jody would take him in like she had done with Cas. He knew that she wouldn’t hesitate if he asked her to. 

“What if he dies?” Sam said suddenly. He had raised his head, just a little bit, but enough to drill his bloodshot eyes into Cas’s. 

“He’s going to live.”

“But what if he dies? Then what?”

“He’s not going to die,” Cas continued, gritting his teeth at Sam’s next words.

“Jo died, and she wasn’t going to either.” 

“Dean’s not going to die. I won’t let him, and neither will Jody.” 

 

Naomi was out of her comfort zone, which Cas couldn’t help but notice. She checked her phone a few times every minute and searched the room for something to entertain her while she waited. When she realized that Cas was watching her, she smiled softly. 

“Who’s Jo?”

The question was extremely painful to take in. 

_What if he dies?_

Jo wasn’t supposed to die. Goddamn Winchester-family for making him so happy and hurting him so much. 

“Jo was Sam and Dean’s sister,” Cas explained, his voice not quite making it to the end. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Naomi and the entire hospital full of strangers. However, when he opened his mouth the tears began to prod at the backs of his eyelids, and soon his cheeks were soaked and his nose was running.

 

Hester came back two times, basically to tell them the same thing all over again. They were doing everything they could.

The third time it was Jody who came. Cas and Sam stood up as she approached them, and Cas nearly laughed at her double take when she spotted Naomi. 

“What the HELL are you doing here?” she exclaimed, instinctively stepping in between Cas and his sister. 

“I’m going to go outside and wait,” Naomi said shortly, her voice back to the cold and hard tone that Cas remembered from Parson. 

“You BETTER!” Jody continued, only stopping when Cas tugged at her arm. 

“Please, tell us about Dean.” She exhaled and brought a hand through her hair, only then recalling why they were there. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” she gestured towards Naomi, and continued, “Dean’s fine. He’s going to be okay.” 

“He’s okay?” Sam breathed, his frown starting to smoothen out. 

“He’s okay,” Jody smiled, giving them both a hug. “You can come see him now if you want, he’s just waking up.” 

≤•≥

Dean didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to that deep state of unconsciousness that had surrounded him with safety.

Nothing could happen when you were asleep, right? John couldn’t get to him if he wasn’t awake.

He was going to stay still with his eyes closed.

But then Sam called his name. 

“Damn it, kid, let me sleep,” Dean groaned, but he smiled as Sam’s cold fingers wrapped around his left bicep. 

“Dean,” Sam repeated.

He opened his eyes.

He had not expected to see what was undoubtedly a hospital room, but that was where he was. White bandage squeezed his left arm, and his right leg was impossibly heavy due to the cast that went from his toes to just underneath his knee. A large square of white was taped to his stomach, at least 20 centimeters long and 10 centimeters wide. 

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but that thought didn’t occur to him until he spotted Cas’s dark hair through the narrow window in the door. Frantically he began pulling at the blanket that covered his legs, but it wasn’t large enough and soon Cas was going to come inside and he was going to see the scars and-

“Breathe,” Sam ordered, tightening his grip on Dean’s arm. 

Right. Oxygen.

Dean heaved a breath and let go of the blanket. 

“Give me my shirt!” he hissed, keeping a close eye on Cas. His back was still turned against the door. 

“Your clothes were cut open, there’s only a hospital gown-“

“Then give me the fucking gown!” Sam rolled his eyes but did as he was told, and helped Dean wriggle his way into the gown. The second he leaned back in the bed, the door opened and Jody entered the room, closely followed by her nephew.   
Dean’s short adrenaline rush vanished, and suddenly he felt like the best thing to do would be to sleep. Maybe for a month or two. 

He looked at Cas, expecting to find a smile, but Cas didn’t meet his gaze. His eyes were glued to another part of Dean. 

More specifically, the angry red scars on his right arm. 

Dean immediately buried his arm underneath the blanket, and Cas immediately looked away, but the damage was already done. 

“What a joyful reunion!” Jody exclaimed sarcastically, giving Cas a push towards the bed. A grin spread on Cas’s lips and he continued to approach Dean on his own. 

“You’re alive,” he said quietly, and before Dean could open his mouth to reply it was rewarded with a kiss. Dean’s thoughts of his scars faded away, but they still remained, just like the wounded tissue. Maybe it wasn’t the most pressing issue at the moment. 

 

Jody gave him an update on how his body was doing, and it wasn’t a cheerful one. His right leg was broken in two places. His left arm was sprained, but thankfully not broken. He had four broken ribs and something inside him had been burst open, which had been the reason for the surgery. He had lost a ton of blood. 

None of that really mattered though. His bones would heal. But his mind?

He wasn’t so sure about that.

“Do you have any questions, Dean?” Jody said softly, and he swallowed. Yes. He had about a million questions, but none of which she could answer. 

_What was he supposed to do?_

“How long do I have to stay here?”

“A few days, if there aren’t any complications. But you have to take it easy until the cast is off before you can return to your normal activities.” 

“Alright.”

“You can rest for a while, but then the police want to talk to you.” He could feel his pulse start racing away again, and a sudden anger flared up in his chest. 

“You called the police?” he snapped, his fingers clutching the fabric of the gown furiously.

“The man who found you half-dead and unconscious in a back alley called the police. Naturally they have questions, considering the state you were found in. Stay down!” Jody exclaimed as Dean started the painful process of trying to get out of bed. He stopped with one leg over the edge of the mattress, breathing heavily from that meagre excursion. With a laugh he shook his head.

“I’m not talking to the cops.” 

“Young man, you are not leaving that bed in your state! Stay down or I’ll strap you to the bed!” 

“I’m not talking to the cops,” he repeated, his voice weak. He lay back down, pain pulsating through every blood vessel inside him. Jody gained a compassionate expression, because she was well aware of the cause of his resistance. She sighed and placed a hand on his right foot. 

“They’re going to come here and talk, and you’re going to listen. There’s no law saying that you have to reply to their questions.” 

“Not replying to them is sort of an answer too though.”

“But they can’t prove anything with silence. Just listen to what they have to say. Please.” 

He couldn’t really refuse. 

 

“I’m afraid I can’t say that I’m glad to see you again, Dean,” the police officer said. It just happened to be Donna Hanscum, the same police who had arrested Dean a little over a year earlier and put him in prison for 11 months. She had the same half-smirk that she’d had when she’d knocked Dean to the ground, and her hair was tied into the same neat bun. Dean remembered all too well how strong she was, and that he had underestimated her strength despite the fact that she was almost as tall as he was. 

Fate must have woken up on the wrong side of bed that morning. 

Dean grunted some half-intelligible reply to her, not quite daring to look into her eyes. 

“It seems as though you’re on the other side of the law this time at least?” A shrug was all he offered to her, face neutral despite the shock of pain. 

“This will be interesting. Would you mind giving us some privacy?” she addressed the rest of the room, tilting her head softly to the side, making two strands of hair escape the bun. With a swift movement she replaced them behind her ears, smirk still there on her kind face. 

“Come on, boys, let’s go,” Jody called, grinning openly as Dean got a quick kiss goodbye from Cas. 

Sam’s left hand did a little twitch, as if he was reaching for Dean’s arm. He didn’t want to leave, and Dean sure as hell wanted him to stay. 

“Can Sammy stay?” Dean said, wincing at the weakness in his voice. Donna’s eyes flickered between the brothers with a frown. 

“I might be asking some quite personal questions-“

“That I have no intention of answering, but that doesn’t matter. He knows everything.” 

_Not everything,_ he thought, but that something that Sam didn’t know was something that he would never tell Donna. 

“If you’re positive about that, then he can stay.” 

“I am,” Dean replied, and only then did he dare to look at Cas. Because Cas didn’t know everything, and to be honest Dean was scared of what he would say and do if he did. At the moment, it was better if he didn’t know. 

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Cas said weakly, just a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Dean tried to grin back, but it turned into a mask of something that was close to fear. 

Once they were alone, Donna pulled out a chair and placed it next to the bed, on the opposite side from where Sam was sitting. In a flash a notebook and a pencil was in her hands, and she seemed to read through some notes before she took a deep breath and looked up. 

“Your full name is Dean Winchester, correct?”

“Yep,” Dean said, popping the “p” loudly.

“And your father’s name is John Winchester, and your mother’s was Mary Winchester.” Sam looked tense beside him. Dean couldn’t swear that he didn’t look exactly the same. “You were arrested on June 3 rd last year, and sentenced with 12 months in jail, however you got out after 11 months on good behavior.” 

“Why do you even need me here? You already know the answers to all of your questions,” Dean snorted, and pressed his head into the pillow as Donna shot him a glance that barked at him to stop bickering with her.

“What can you tell me about last night?”

“It was a hell of a night, that’s for sure.”

“Stop,” Sam whispered, almost inaudible. However, it was directed at Dean, and he heard it as clearly as he did his own thoughts. Maybe it was time to stop playing games. 

Maybe it was time…

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Dean said instead. He could have come up with some half-hearted lie, but lies always got someone else in trouble and Dean was tired of messing people’s lives up. He just wanted it all to be over. 

“Is that so?” Donna didn’t exactly look surprised, but she seemed disappointed. He suddenly remembered a similar situation more than a year earlier, when he’d been in the hospital for a broken collarbone. That time he’d already been arrested, and Donna had just been looking for a statement of what had happened. He hadn’t exactly collaborated then either.

“Do you remember who hit you?”

_My fucked-up poor excuse of a father._

Dean gritted his teeth, refusing to answer. He could feel Sam’s burning stare on the side of his head. 

“Are you aware that your father was spotted two blocks away from the location where you were found, by the same man who found you a few hours later?” 

Dean looked away. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let his own father be arrested. Most importantly, he was scared of what would happen if John and Sam both had to leave him.

“From what I’ve read in his file, John has quite a reputation of being violent towards others. Has he ever hurt, or attempted to hurt one of you?” 

_Every day. Every fucking day._

“Dean, was John the one who hit you?” 

Tears burned behind Dean’s eyelids, so he closed his eyes. He’d gone over this conversation hundreds of times in his head, and every time he ended up telling the truth. And every time, John broke out of prison to hunt him down. 

The realization hit him like one of John’s punches. All his life he’d been worried that Sam and Jo would be taken away from him if he confessed to John’s countless crimes, and all that time he’d told himself that that was the reason he hadn’t done it. 

Maybe it was a small part of the truth, but it was infinitesimal compared to the real reason: Dean was scared. To death. If he set the cops on his dad, there was no knowing what he would do. John was the meanest, scariest bully he’d ever come across, made so much worse because of the man he used to be. At the back of his mind, Dean still had a hope that John would return to the loving and compassionate father he had once been, a dangerous hope that Dean had ignored for a long time.

However, it was still there, gnawing at his mind. 

_What if…?_

What if John got his act together and started acting like the dad they deserved, the supporting adult they needed? 

What if he was sent to prison? 

_What if he was let out?_

“Can I talk to Dean for a minute?” Sam cut in, his icy fingers like a handcuff around Dean’s arm. Donna stood up and left the room, but for all Dean knew she had exploded into a million tiny slivers of light. 

“I can’t do it,” Dean gulped, coughing up the oxygen that his lungs screamed for. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything.” 

“What if he comes back? He always comes back.”

“Maybe he won’t. Maybe the police can help.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Sammy.” Jo’s face flashed in front of him, and suddenly she was there, her smile and her ridiculous, gorgeous blonde hair, and her warm embrace, and her soft voice. John had brought them along when they could have stayed at home. He had wanted them to watch, to learn. To know that John wasn’t someone you said “no” to. 

“Do you know what Jo would have said if she was here right now?” Dean shook his head. The memories of her had already begun to fade. “She would have told you to follow your guts. To do what you believe is right.” 

“But I don’t know what to believe,” Dean whispered, his cheeks covered by a layer of tears and blood. 

“I can’t decide for you,” Sam sighed, brushing his hair back with his free hand. 

“When did you get so wise?”

“About twelve hours ago, give or take.” They laughed, and it was a beautiful thing to be able to do that with his brother. To have enough willpower left to smile. 

There were only four years left until Sam’s eighteenth birthday. Until John couldn’t legally hold them back. 

Four years was an awfully long time. 

 

“What happens if I tell you the truth?” Dean asked Donna. She had barely had time to settle down on the light green chair that stood right between Dean’s bed and the door.

“That depends on what the truth is.”

“Humor me,” Dean groaned, pressing his head back against the pillow. 

“If it turns out that John is guilty of physical and psychological child abuse, the court will decide the proper punishment. In most cases that means being sent to prison. If John is found to be innocent, the three of you will be allowed to return to your normal lives.”

“And if he does go to prison, what’ll happen to Sammy?”

“Since your brother is underage, PCSA will step in and he will most likely be transferred to a foster home, and eventually assigned to a foster family. In normal cases his closest relative would become his legal guardian, however-“

“That’s not going to happen to me because of my record and financial situation. I figured that one out by myself.”

“Then I guess we’re all set. I’m going to ask you again, Dean: do you remember who hit you?”

Sam making breakfast for him and pulling him out of bed at some unearthly hour in the morning. Sam helping him with his homework after spending the entire night finishing his own. Sam waking up with his hair sticking out in every direction and drool on his chin. 

Sam begging him to sleep next to him in case John decided to come into his room. 

Sam picking out shards of glass from his hands. 

Sam growing up to become someone dangerously similar to Dean. 

“Alright,” Dean breathed, closing his eyes. His pulse was rocketing again as he forgot how to breathe, but his brother was still there and his hand was still soothing the skin on his arm. 

“Alright?” Donna echoed, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ll tell you everything.” 


	16. Chapter 16

Sleeping in one of the chairs in the waiting room was not how Cas had imagined he would spend the morning. He hadn’t even planned to fall asleep, but as the minutes ticked by he grew increasingly exhausted. 

Naomi was nowhere to be seen. Cas couldn’t decide whether he was pleased that she had left or sad that she hadn’t said goodbye. However, for all he knew she could be sitting in another waiting room on another floor. 

“Good morning sleepy,” Jody greeted with a smile as he straightened up. A paper cup was placed in his hand, and he sniffed at the content. 

Hot chocolate. His aunt knew him well. 

“How’s he doing?”

“About how you’d expect.” She sat on the chair next to him, draping a comforting arm around his shoulders. “He’s been through a lot, Cas. I’m not saying that you should leave him alone, just give him some space. Let him tell you things instead of asking him about them. Let him take the first step.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Dean might not feel safe if you put too much pressure on him. These kinds of things don’t just go away.” She pulled him closer, and Cas let his head rest on her shoulder. “It’s like when you first came here, and you didn’t want to leave your room.” She spoke with her soft voice, and Cas knew it was because she was afraid of stirring up bad memories. Like the things she said wouldn’t be quite as real if she only whispered them. 

“It’s like when you were scared to go to school and I had to drive you there, and go with you to your teacher so she could take you to class.”

“You know I still get pushed in the corridors, right?”

“I know, honey, I know. But I also know that you have friends who watch your back. Benny has been calling me every week since he found out.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. He promised to keep an eye on you.” A warm, fuzzy, ridiculously clichéd feeling spread through Cas’s chest and pumped through his veins.

“He’s a bit protective like that.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Cas could hear the smile in her voice, and feel the pride through her fingertips. When she spoke again, her voice changed to nearly inaudible. “You told me that Dean’s told you about his dad. And- ugh, I don’t know what to say. It’s terrible that anyone has to suffer through what he is enduring. What they both are. Just…” Her voice drifted off, and she tightened her grip slightly. 

“Just what?” Cas echoed, trying to lure her words out. 

“Just remember that he is more than his past. Remember that he wants a future, and if he has forgotten, remind him. Remind him of all the music he’s made you listen to, Bucky’s fur, all those little things that make him into something more than his dad’s punching bag.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” Cas smiled, and a soft kiss was placed on the top of his head.

“I do. But not as much as you do.” 

 

They sat in silence for a while, and Cas slowly finished his chocolate. 

“So, Naomi?” Jody asked, her expression worried. 

“She showed up out of nowhere. To be honest, I don’t know what she wants.” 

“I think I might have an idea.” Cas cast her a look, and was surprised to see shame on his aunt’s face. 

“You’ve been hiding something from me,” he stated, and she nodded. 

“Chuck called me a few weeks ago. He wanted to talk to you, but it was right after Jo died and I just couldn’t let him. I know I had no right, because he’s your dad, and they’re your family, and it should be up to you whether or not you want to talk to him. I’m sorry. I guess I was just afraid of losing you.” 

“You’re not going to lose me, Aunt J.” Cas burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, letting his tears soak her shirt. She had changed out of her scrubs. “You are my family, not them.” 

Jody burst into tears with a laugh, hugging him too tightly but he never wanted her to let go. 

Things were okay. 

And then Naomi showed up. 

Jody’s smile vanished and she stood up, holding Naomi’s gaze. 

“Hello, aunt Jody,” Naomi greeted, not exactly expecting a response. 

“First of all, I understand that you helped Cas and Sam get here this morning, and I’m grateful that you did. But now I’d like you to leave.”

“Come on, we both know why I’m here. It’s time for Cas to come home.”

“I _am_ home,” Cas chimed in, standing up as well. “And I am eighteen years old. You can’t make me do anything.” Naomi shook her head slowly, and turned back to Jody. 

“Jody, mine and Cas’s parents have let this act go on for a while, with the hope that Cas would come to his senses. Since that doesn’t seem to be the case, they are now asking you to do what’s right. He needs to get rid of whatever fantasies have mudded his brain.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to go with Cas on this one. He’s eighteen. I can’t really decide where he wants to live, I can only offer him a home, and let him know that his _fantasies_ are a wonderful thing.”

“He’s a child,” Naomi snapped, fury reeking through her pores. Cas couldn’t fathom why they would want him back in the first place, but they could hardly force him. And he wasn’t stupid enough to listen to Naomi’s yapping.

“Actually, I’m not. And I want you to leave.”

The entire morning, being nice to him and pulling him closer to forgiving her, had just been an act. He could see that now. It broke his heart to learn that nothing, and everything, had changed since he left Parson. All he knew was that he wouldn’t go back. 

“I suppose that’s it then,” Naomi snorted, flattening her hair with the palm of her left hand. “Mom always said you were a lost cause, but I haven’t believed her until now. I doubt we’ll ever see each other again, but who knows. Maybe one day you’ll understand.” 

“Goodbye, Naomi,” Cas said, skin crawling with anger. How could she be so naïve to think that there was something wrong with him? How could she believe that he would go to hell for loving another guy? 

Naomi left. Cas hoped that it was the last time she saw her, but he wasn’t so sure. His fuming thoughts would have continued for a long time if Hester hadn’t showed up in the doorway, calling Jody’s name with an urgent voice. 

“It’s Dean! His right lung has collapsed!” 

 

Cas was stopped by Hester on the way into Dean’s room, and he watched helplessly as Jody reached Dean’s side. Her expression showed that she was talking to him soothingly, but it was impossible to hear her words due to the loud voices and frantic machines. Sam stood in the corner of the room next to the police officer, both of them looking shocked. 

As Cas let his eyes wander back to Dean, he nearly yelled out from the sudden pain that welled up inside him as Jody made an incision on the right side of his chest, cutting straight through his skin without hesitating. 

Through his uneven, _unreal_ skin. Cas had never seen anything like it. Where there should have been pale, beige smoothness, there were angry red fields of ridges and gorges, a mottled pattern that looked like a red sea on a stormy day. 

It was the most beautiful thing Cas had ever seen. 

He swallowed hard and looked at Dean’s face. Suddenly so many of his questions were answered all at once. Why Dean had never let his hands touch his chest without having at least one layer of fabric in between. The look of distress when Cas had almost walked in on him without a shirt. 

At the moment, Dean’s eyes were clamped shut as he lay on his left side with his right arm held above his head. A nurse was pressing an oxygen mask to his face, and his chest was heaving empty breaths. 

Cas winced as Jody’s steady hands pushed a plastic tube through the cut she’d made, and he closed his eyes, hoping that Sam was doing the same. He pulled his own hand up to the left side of his chest, where he knew there was a mark that looked as if someone had drawn a pink line with a crayon. Parson’s hospital, eight months earlier. Same procedure, different doctor. Cas had never imagined that it had looked so painful. 

Returning his attention towards Dean, Cas found that the curiosity that burned through his mind was almost unbearable. How had those wonderful scars gotten there? He couldn’t imagine the horrendous pain Dean must have endured to get them. 

Sam and the cop were ushered out of the room by Hester, and they joined Cas’s side. Sammy looked shaken, but alright, considering. He smiled weakly at Cas and slid down into a sitting pile on the floor, head buried in his hands between his knees. The cop gave him a worried look but let him be.

“What happened?” Cas asked, quietly but urgently. Jody and a handful of nurses were still swarming around Dean, and it took all of Cas’s willpower to not run in there. 

“He tried to sit up, it took no more than a second before he was gasping for air. The guy has an unbelievable threshold for pain.” She seemed to consider something, and added, “he ought to become a cop.”

“What did he say about last night?” 

“He told me the whole thing, everything that’s been happening since his mother died. John Winchester will be lucky to ever see the outside of a cell again.” 

“He told you everything?” Cas breathed, and noticed the affirmative nod from Sam. 

“Five years of drug runs and an alcoholic of a father. Quite the life they’ve had.” The cop said, exasperated look on her face. “I’ve been a cop for twenty years, and I’ve never heard anything like it. I’m going to get that son of a bitch.” She quickly pulled her hand up to cover her mouth, her eyes growing three sizes as she realized what she’d just said. “Shit-damn it. I’m sorry, Sam,” she apologized, kneeling beside him.

“It’s alright. He’s been called worse things.” He lifted his head and his lips quirked into the lopsided grin that Dean used so frequently.

“So you’re done with the interview?” Cas asked, and was relieved when the cop nodded.

“I was just about to leave when all this happened.”

Jody chose that exact moment to come outside, fatigue streaking her face. There weren’t enough words to describe how much of a hero she was to Cas right now. 

“He’s stable now, but very tired. I think he’d like it if you want to sit in there while he sleeps.” 

“Of course,” Cas exclaimed, and bent down next to Sam. “Are you okay?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Let’s go before he decides to puncture his other lung as well.” Sam was pulled to his feet and met Jody’s eyes. Cas could see the pain in them, as well as he could see the safety in Jody’s. 

“There’s a tube going through his chest to let the air out, just so you’re prepared. It might look scary, but it’s only there to help. He has an oxygen mask on, too, so no kissing,” Jody teased, pointing at Cas with her index finger. He rolled his eyes and prepared to go inside when she stopped him, letting Sam greet his brother first.   
“I’m going to get some sleep. Hester will be here if you need anything, otherwise you call me. You can stay all day if you like, but no visitors are allowed at night. And make _sure_ you bring Sam with you when you go home. I’ve talked to the cop, Donna, already, and she’s agreed to let him stay with us until Dean gets better, at least to let them have a proper goodbye.” A chill spread through Cas. Sam was no longer Dean’s responsibility, and he could only imagine how scared they both were at the moment.

Cas knew that turning John in was the right decision, but he couldn’t help but think that there must’ve been some way for the brothers to stay together. 

“Hey,” Jody said softly, stroking Cas’s hair back. “It’ll be okay.” 

“I know. Are you going home now?”

“I am. My bed and I have some catching up to do.” Cas smiled at that, and returned the hug she flooded him with. Before she broke the embrace she reminded him of her earlier advice: “Don’t push him, Cas. Let him decide what he will and will not tell you.” 

He could have done that. He would have done it, if it hadn’t been for one thing.

The scars. 

 

Sam met him in the door just as Jody had left. Some life had returned to his eyes, and he flashed a few dollar bills in front of Cas. 

“I’m going to grab something to eat. Never made it to that grill sandwich.” Cas knew the real reason behind Sam’s sudden appetite, and he was grateful to get a few moments alone with Dean. He pushed the kid towards the cafeteria, braced himself and opened the door.

Dean’s eyes were shut and he lay completely still, giving Cas enough time to reach his side and admire the scars up close. They were even more tantalizing than Cas had first believed. The intricate patterns were so complex and full of detail that Cas lost sight of why he was really there: all he wanted to do was explore the rugged skin with his fingers. 

He noticed the instant Dean opened his eyes, because of how he recoiled, his torn hands pulling at the blanket that was covering him from the hips down. 

“It’s okay, Dean, calm down,” he soothed, but Dean wasn’t listening. The mask that was covering his nose and mouth turned foggy from his rapid breathing, and he looked everywhere but straight into Cas’s eyes. 

“You don’t have to worry about the scars, I don’t mind.” Dean began clawing at the mask, simultaneously trying to angle his body away from Cas. “Dean!” Cas exclaimed at last, grabbing his friend’s hands. “Look at me!” 

Dean froze. His eyes were flickering aimlessly in front of him, too restless to land on any particular object. Patiently, Cas waited for the darkness to meet his gaze. When it did, Cas slowly let his hand travel up Dean’s right arm, to the line that separated pale skin from flaming scars. Cold fingertips brushed over the hot, red islands, and they felt just as extraordinary as Cas had imagined. 

As Cas got lost in the magic that was Dean Winchester, he could feel the tense muscles underneath his skin, and listened to Dean’s strained breathing. 

“They’re beautiful,” Cas whispered, placing a kiss on the bend of his arm, careful to avoid any bruises but to still hit rugged red instead of smooth white. Dean’s breath hitched as Cas’s lips traveled up his arm, rewarding every inch of scar tissue with a kiss. He reached Dean’s neck, then his jaw, and by the time he got to his forehead the dark eyes were closed. A tear slipped down his cheek.

“You did a brave thing, confessing to the cop.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dean replied, his voice muffled by the mask, however it was still audible.

“Yes, you did. And it was brave of you to turn him in.”

“Not just him,” Dean said, and Cas could hear the hidden pride in his voice. 

“What do youmean?”

“I just gave Donna the names of two of Cleveland’s biggest drug dealers, along with addresses, employees and phone numbers. They’re about to go on one hell of a ride.” Cas smiled and rewarded his left temple with a kiss. 

“I’m proud of you.” A blush spread on Dean’s cheeks, and he turned his gaze down, reminding himself of his naked torso. He instantly pulled his arms up across his chest, turning his head away in the process. 

It pained Cas to see how uncomfortable Dean was with showing him the scars. He realized that his friend had probably been worried about what Cas would think if he ever saw them, and that he had found it easier to hide them than talk about it. 

Unfortunately for him, Cas was exceedingly curious. He didn’t want to put pressure on Dean, considering what he had just gone through, but by _god_ did he want to know. 

“Can you please get me a shirt? Or a second blanket?” Dean mumbled, his voice torn up from fear. 

“Dean-“

“Please?” 

Cas barely heard the word through the mask and the tears, but he saw it in Dean’s posture, in the way his arms were wrapped around his chest. 

“Your scars are beautiful,” Cas whispered, his mouth close to Dean’s ear. “They are nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Please,” Dean repeated, but he didn’t sound so sure anymore. 

“Will you let me look?” This was it. This was as far as he was going to go. He wasn’t going to ask how he’d gotten them, because that would be pushing it one step too far. Seeing them was enough.

Dean’s head was still turned away from Cas, so he couldn’t read his expression. However, soon he could feel his friend relax, and after an agonizingly long eternity Dean let his arms drop to his sides,revealing the plastic tube that stuck into his ribs, but most importantly, the endless ocean of red. 

Cas hesitated no more than a second before placing his hand on Dean’s stomach. He was shivering. Moving slowly, Cas brought his hand up, past the bellybutton and all the way to the middle of his chest, careful to avoid the tube. He traced the little edges of the scars around and around, fascinated by how they seemed to loop through one another. 

After a while Dean turned his head back towards Cas, and he watched him in silence. His fingers were still curled into fists. 

“Beautiful,” Cas stated, pressing his lips against Dean’s bare chest. 

“Can you give me a shirt now?” Dean whispered, but the words struck Cas with an impressive force. He just had to remind himself that this was a first step.

After giving the room a quick scan Cas spotted a hospital gown, that he helped Dean put on. Once most of the scars were hidden again Dean relaxed further, sinking deep into the bed. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled, lifting two fingers of his left hand as an invitation to hold it. Cas complied without batting an eyelid. 

“Me too,” he said. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay right here.” 

“I know,” Dean slurred, already half asleep. 


	17. Chapter 17

_12 months earlier._

The whole concept of cramming a bunch of criminals into a closed-off building with no way out and limited entertainment was like a bad setup to a joke. Dean had seen a lot of movies and TV-shows and their way of portraying the inside of a prison. Most of the things were done pretty well. There was only one aspect that Dean had not expected. 

The fear. 

He’d been eighteen years and two weeks old when he was arrested. Compared to the middle-aged and, in most cases, quite large inmates surrounding him, Dean was just a kid. 

He was used to John. 

In there, he faced forty-seven Johns every day. 

“Winchester! Get your ass out of bed!” 

Dean opened his eyes to a bright light, a splitting headache and a grumbling stomach. 

“I’m awake,” he muttered, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, nearly tipping over before remembering that he had the top bunk. 

“Come on.” Clinton tugged at his ankle twice, as if ringing a bell. “Time for breakfast.” Dean jumped down to the floor and wavered on his heels, unsure if he was stepping on smooth concrete or loose rocks. Settling for the former, he staggered the two steps to the sink and splashed ice cold water on his face. As he looked up in the mirror, he met Clinton’s brown eyes in the reflection. 

“You look like shit,” he exclaimed, and Dean mumbled in consent. The cause of his migraine was a fist-sized bruise on his right jaw. Clinton whistled a low tune and turned around, scratching the edge of a scar on his bare scalp. 

As Dean straightened up he grew a head taller than his cellmate, but he was still only half his age, half his width, and miles away when it came to status. 

“Let’s go.” 

Dean forced himself to walk with his back straight, despite wanting to crawl into a ball on the floor and never stand up again. In the line in the cafeteria, he kept his gaze dead ahead, refusing to make any eye contact. 

He sat down by an unoccupied table. Those were usually rare at breakfast-time. His hand was shaking as he brought the plastic cup towards his lips. Coal black coffee hit the tip of his tongue, too hot and too strong, but it filled his mouth with something else besides the taste of blood. 

Every footstep sounded like the drums beating on the way to his execution. Every voice could be ready to throw threats at him. 

He waited. 

Ten minutes past eight, and Alastair arrived, as punctual as always. He headed straight to Dean’s table, sending one of his accomplices to stand in line. 

“Good morning, Dean,” Alastair spat, anger fuming through his watery, blue eyes. Dean dared to sneak a glance at his face, and had to hide his smirk as he spotted the clotted blood on, in and around his nose. 

“Your eyes are looking a little glazed, Alastair, I hope you’re not about to catch a cold?” Dean asked, his heart pounding double beats at Alastair’s snarl. The face that could have belonged to a model with its sharp edges and prominent features was distorted by the furious expression that covered it, and the usually neat hair stood out like a crow’s nest. 

“I hope you’re not too fond of your hands, because I’m going to _cut them off_ ,” he hissed, fingernails digging into Dean’s arm as he slammed it onto the table and held it down. 

“There are other parts of me that can do more damage than my hands.” Dean’s voice was steady, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up.

“Then I’m going to enjoy dismantling you from your pretty little face down to your toes.” With the last word Alastair snatched the spoon from Dean’s tray and stabbed the back of it straight into the palm of his hand. Dean leaned forwards with a gasp, his right hand swatting at Alastair’s. 

“Will that be enough to keep your mouth shut?” 

“Fuck you!” Dean roared, yelling out as the cheap plastic dug through his skin. His screams turned to laughter as the pain seared through his body. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Alastair exclaimed, and it wasn’t until he had busted Dean’s eyebrow that the guards paid enough attention to them to divide them. 

Dean was sent to the prison’s hospital within seconds. All he could think about was the fact that he hadn’t gotten a chance to finish his breakfast. 

 

Everyone knew that the kitchen was closed from 1pm to 2pm, when the cooks went on their lunch break. Something that Dean had found out only recently, was that the doors to the kitchen were never locked, and that the guards assigned to the TV-room (which happened to be right next to the cafeteria) had a habit of being more interested in whatever show was playing than their duties. 

Alastair had made sure that Dean didn’t get any lunch through one of his accomplices. There wasn’t really a lot to do when a man who weighed at least one hundred and fifty kilos walked up to you and told you to give him your food. 

At exactly 1:04pm Dean left his seat in the TV-room and informed one of the guards that he was going back to his cell. They waved him off, already deeply focused on _The Simpsons_. Dean scoffed and went into the corridor. The cells were to his left, the kitchen to his right. A guard was walking away from him to the left. 

He turned right. 

The doors to the cafeteria closed without a single creak, and Dean took a deep breath. For the first time in six months he was alone. He took a few moments to cherish the feeling, but not too long. Hunger drove him into the kitchen, and he began scouring the cupboards that lined the walls for something to eat. 

Because his head was deep into one of five fridges, he didn’t hear the kitchen door being opened again. Just as he spotted a can of hot dogs, hands took hold of his arms and pulled him away, his head slamming into the fridge door in the process. The two guys hauled him into the air before dropping him on a stainless steel-table that stood freely in the middle of the kitchen. His back hit something sharp and he groaned, quickly trying to sit up but the strong hands held him down. 

“I thought I made it clear when I said you were going without food,” Alastair called out, and Dean raised his head to get a look at him. The thugs that were restraining him were Dipper and Gerald, basically Alastair’s right and left hand. 

“Well, I figured I’d make you a nice dinner to thank you.” Fingers tugged at Dean’s hair. He got the gesture and stopped moving. 

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” 

“What can I say, I like to keep things interesting.” The sound of running water erupted, along with the clatter of metal against metal. It was a struggle to raise his head when Dipper’ fingers were still entwined in his hair, but he managed. To his right, Alastair and yet another of his friends were filling pots with water and placing them on the stove. 

“Are you going to make me some tea?” Dean wondered, and let his head fall back on the table. Gerald was holding his ankles down against the metal, and Dipper had pulled his arms up above his head and was stretching his entire body out. He was one hundred percent, ridiculously, stuck. 

“Keep ‘em coming,” Alastair ordered the third guy, before returning to Dean with a wolfish grin. 

“No tea?” Dean whined, pouting his lips. He was in deep trouble and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. It was just too easy to tip Alastair over the edge. 

“Do you know the difference between you and me, Dean?” he asked, leaning over Dean so their faces were aligned. 

“We both know that I’m better looking, if that’s what you mean.”

“Power,” he said, his face lighting up with some inner glow. “I have it and you don’t. I snap my fingers, and Dipper bashes your head in.” 

“If you’re truly the god almighty, what the hell are you doing locked up in here?” Dean replied, gritting his teeth against the slap on his cheek. Alastair took hold of his shirt with both hands, and with an inhuman growl he ripped it open, baring a toned chest and a shivering stomach. 

“I’m having the time of my life, Dean. And nothing you say can take that away from me.” 

The sound of boiling water reached Dean’s ears, and Alastair disappeared for three seconds before returning again, now with a steaming pot in his hands. 

“Don’t you ever forget how worthless you are. You are a nobody.” Alastair whispered, and then the pot was tipping and Dean couldn’t do anything but watch as the water hit his naked skin. 

At first he didn’t feel a thing. As the water flowed across his body it was not different from taking a shower and waiting for the temperature to become comfortably lukewarm. 

Cold prickles spread across his skin, but then a stronger sensation rushed through his veins, and suddenly his entire body was on fire. He screamed out, his voice muffled by a sour-tasting towel that was brutally pressed into his mouth. 

His skin was crawling, melting as the river of lava made its way into every pore, burning through every cell. He clamped his eyes shut to keep himself grounded, to stop his body from exploding. 

A second splash of water, and it was impossible for the pain to get worse but somehow it did. He couldn’t breathe. He kept pulling more air in through his nose, but nothing would come out, and he was kicking and trying to pull his arms towards his body for some sort of protection, but he couldn’t move. 

He could only watch as Alastair poured a third pot of boiling water across his skin, and feel how his vocal cords were shredded from the muffled screams. 

Dean lost count of how many times Alastair turned away and faced him again. He stopped screaming after a while, his only reaction the occasional tremor that passed through his body. 

Surely, this was it. He was going to die. No human being could possibly endure this much pain and live through it. 

He couldn’t even conjure up an image of his siblings as a distraction from his flaming skin. 

If he even had siblings. He couldn’t tell anymore. 

Something stirred around him, and he opened his eyes to darkness. He blinked, and suddenly Alastair was above him again. His lips were moving, but Dean couldn’t hear anything but the roaring thunder inside his head. The towel disappeared but the taste lingered. No matter how many heaving breaths he pulled it wasn’t enough. He was choking on too much oxygen. 

Voices approached him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. The pain was too much. It felt as though his skin had betrayed him and was attacking the rest of his body. With a cry and a deep moan he pulled his legs up towards his body and covered his head with his arms. 

It was too much. Too much pain for one mind to handle. 


	18. Chapter 18

Cas couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning for hours, and from what he could hear through his door, Sam was doing the exact same thing. 

Only a few more hours. 

Dean only had to make it to 7am on his own, then they would be allowed back in.  
At 7:02am Cas and Sam stood by the door that led into Dean’s room. He was still asleep. 

Dean’s recovery was slow, most likely because of how deeply and completely exhausted he was. He fell asleep seconds after he had stopped talking to Cas that first day, and slept for twenty hours straight. When he woke up, he complained of being tired. 

Sam and Cas spent every minute of the following days in Dean’s room, dozing, talking, watching movies. Once Dean’s energy was a little higher, he taught them a few card games, grumpy as they beat him in every one. 

None of them spoke of the inevitable moment when an adult would come inside and tell them that it was time for Sam to be taken to Cleveland’s foster home, where odds were that he’d be sent off to get some distance from John. 

The instant the warrant for John’s arrest had been released, the man had vanished. Cas had a feeling that he wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to, and he could sense the distress it had put Dean in. 

Two days after Dean’s surgery the three of them were in the middle of a game of poker, talking nonsense as always. Sam was currently describing the motives of the kings and queens on the cards, completely engrossed in the details. 

Before either of them could even blink, Dean had viciously thrown his hand of cards across the room, snarling out a sound of worry. He pulled his knees up towards his chest, promptly ignoring any rule that there might have been of moving slowly and gently and minding the cast on his leg. Mumbling a string of indecipherable words, he buried his face in his hands and rocked slowly back and forth. Cas looked up at Sam, who shrugged and tilted his head towards his brother. 

Cas cleared his throat and said, “Would you care to explain?” Dean snorted in response, and shook his head. He heaved a breath, and then another, and then Cas realized that he was crying. Shooting another glance at Sam, he mouthed ‘what the hell?’,and was met by a shrug that said ‘I don’t know’.

“Come on, Dean, help us out. Do you want us to leave?” He made a negating sound through his hands. “Do you want me to shut up?” There was no response this time. The room was silent. 

At last, Dean spoke, his voice rough and uneven.

“Will you give us a minute, Ty?”

“Um, sure. I’ll be just outside-“

“No. Go grab something to eat. Then bring something back for Cas.” 

“Fine,” Sam said shortly. Cas understood the reason for his sharp tone, because Dean sounded like he was pissed off at him. 

The room grew even more quiet as Sam left, and Dean waited at least a minute to make sure that his brother was out of hearing range. 

When the minute had passed, Dean grabbed the discarded cards in front of him and hurled them away, screaming and cursing as they slowly swiveled towards the floor.   
Cas had a small sliver of hope that that was the end of his outburst, but the next moment he ducked instinctively as Dean’s plastic cup hit a painting on the wall with enough force to knock it down, leaving nothing more than a single nail behind. The glass shattered as it hit the floor. 

“Dean.”

The little electric clock on the bedside table was next, leaving a dent in the beige drywall. 

“Dean!” 

“WHAT? WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?”

Cas wondered how long it would take until someone came and asked for an explanation when a vase with plastic flowers flew past his peripheral vision. 

“THEY’RE GOING TO TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME AND I CAN’T DO A SINGLE FUCKING THING ABOUT IT!” 

Cas handed him a book from the bedside table closest to him, and flinched as it hit the wall. 

“And… God damn it, he’s still out there, and I can’t fucking BREATHE because I know that he’s still there somewhere.” He was crying openly now, staring straight ahead with blank, watery eyes. Cas held another book in front of him, that he took and gently placed in his lap, two fingers touching the cover. He closed his eyes. 

“It’s like Jo all over again.” 

“Sam is still alive, and he’s not dying. He’s just moving. He’ll be alright for four years.”

“But what about me?” Dean’s voice was down to a whisper now, his eyes bloodshot and pleading. “I’m nothing without him. What am I supposed to do in Cleveland, alone?” 

“You’re not alone. You have me.”

“And where will you be one year from now? Probably off on some fancy college three states away. I don’t have the money or the grades to do that.” 

“Who said anything about going to college?” Cas smiled, and moved to sit on the side of Dean’s bed. He took the hand that Dean wanted to pull away and refused to let go. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“Don’t make me break them.”

“Don’t be such a fucking cheeseball.” 

The grin was back on Dean’s face, and oh, how Cas had missed it. He’d missed it enough to lean forwards and kiss the little smirk at the corner of his lips. The taste of salt and blood and cold skin was mesmerizing. 

“I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get through this,” Dean sighed. 

“You’ll figureit out.”

“Like I figured out how to deal with Jo’s death? Didn’t work out all that well, if you remember.”

“I think we’re doing alright.”

“You do?”

“I think that despite how sad and shocking and unbelievably unfair it was, it’s still okay somehow.”

“I miss her.”

“Me too. There’s like this big section of memories of her got sealed off and put away. Like it happened years ago, not just a month ago.”

“For me, I can still see it happen, you know? When I close my eyes, it’s like the scene keeps replaying over and over again in my head. Bam-bam,” he made the unmistakable shape of a gun with his right hand and pointed it straight forwards, and pretended to fire it. “Two bullets, one in her stomach, one in her heart.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

He turned his gaze down towards their hands, as if he had just noticed that they were entwined. His grip tightened and his lips twitched into a smile for a split second. 

“I was getting my ass kicked by a guy twice her size, and she jumped him to stop him. Two seconds later she was on the ground.”

“You were there when it happened?”

“Shit, I never told you that, did I? But yeah, me and Sammy were there. John too.”

“I-“ Cas was interrupted by the sound of his own phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and took a look at the name on the screen, frowning when he saw that it was Benny. He showed it to Dean, who shrugged, still a bit blown out after his outburst. 

“You can tell him,” he said, and Cas hit the green button. 

_“Three days Cas, and not a single word. Where the hell are you?”_

“Hello to you too, Benny. I’m sorry I haven’t called, but Dean’s in the hospital, and-“

_“He’s WHAT?”_

“He’s had surgery. I’ve been here since Wednesday morning.” Cas could hear Charlie’s voice through the phone, and Benny’s quick recap of what he’d just been told, along with a “ _I’m talking to him now, can’t you wait_?” and Charlie’s frustrated “ _no_ ”. A shuffling sound erupted and Cas held the phone away from his ear until he could hear Charlie’s voice again, much louder this time. 

_“Dean’s had surgery and you didn’t let us know? Is he alright?”_

“He’s alright,” Cas said firmly, looking straight into Dean’s eyes as he said it. He could’ve sworn that it made his friend look a little rueful.

“ _Well, Jesus Christ. Can we come and visit? Or how does it work_?”

“Hang on.” Cas covered the microphone with his hand and smiled apologetically to Dean. “They want to come and visit. Should I tell them to come tomorrow?”

“They want to visit me?” 

“Yes.”

“Seriously?” 

“They care about you!”

“They’ve only known me for, like, a week.”

“I’ve only known you for a month,” Cas reiterated, and pinched his arm. “Should I tell them to come tomorrow? Otherwise they’ll be here in ten minutes if I know them right.”

“How about this afternoon?”

“Charlie, you there?”

“ _Yep_.”

“You can come by this afternoon, visiting hours end at five.”

“No flowers, I want ice cream!” Dean said in a staged whisper, loud enough for Charlie to hear and laugh. 

“ _Ice cream it is. Can I talk to him_?” Cas held the phone out towards Dean, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. 

“Hey, Charlie,” he said, and Cas smiled throughout their entire two-minute conversation. He had never seen Dean blush that hard, which most likely meant that Charlie was giving him a proper lecture. When he quit the call he rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. 

“She was a tad upset.”

“It happens.” Dean put the phone back in his outstretched hand, and Cas couldn’t help but spot the scars on his arm. He was still wearing the hospital gown, with sleeves that ended by his elbows, just short enough to show a hint of scar tissue. Dean noticed where his eyes were fixed, and tugged nervously at the sleeve. 

“Stop,” Cas said quietly, and Dean obeyed, however he twisted his arm so most of the scars were hidden. 

“Please, don’t look at them. Please. I can barely hold myself together as it is.” 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You don’t know that, though, do you?” he snapped. His hand was still firmly holding Cas’s. “Please just pretend that you don’t know they’re there. It’d make things a whole lot easier.” 

_Don’t push him_.

“Alright. You’re right. I’m sorry. None of my business, right?”

“It is your business, just not right now.” Using the hand that was locked to Cas’s, Dean pulled him closer. 

Cas could see the bruises and little cuts all over his face. He saw dark eyes and wet cheeks.

Then he was too close to see properly, and Cas closed his eyes, longing for the moment when they’d finally be close enough.


	19. Chapter 19

Dean was tired. 

Truly, terrifyingly tired. 

If he hadn’t muted his inner voice it would have told him to give up already. There were plenty of objects in his presence that were sharp enough to cut through skin and veins and all sorts of unnecessary parts of his weak body. 

A pair of scissors that a nurse had left behind after using them to cut the edges of the cast on his leg when he had complained of how it itched. 

A fork and a knife, plastic, but still sharp, from his lunch. 

A glass vase on the bedside table that could be smashed into appropriate sizes. 

But he was tired. And doing anything at all besides lying in bed and talking to Cas and Sam felt like a waste of energy. 

His minutes with Sam were not unlimited anymore. In fact, they were running out of time with every breath he took, and how could he let the crazier parts of his brain take control when he needed to focus on his brother? 

Every moment was precious. Every laugh, every smile. Dean had to work hard to save triple copies of them in his head, because who knew when they would see each other again? 

He no longer had a right to his brother. And that scared him more than anything he’d ever faced before. There had to be something he could do, something he hadn’t thought of…

But he was so tired. Maybe it was enough to cherish these last minutes together. 

≤•≥

Jody was checking on Dean’s vitals when Benny, Charlie, Meg and Kevin burst into the room with what had to be at least 10 liters of ice cream. The room was suddenly filled with seven cheerful voices that immediately started bickering at each other, as the four newcomers fought to get the best seats. 

Benny greeted Jody with a quick hug, before he stepped in to physically separate Meg and Kevin from each other to stop their wrestling match on the end of Dean’s bed. 

“I hope it’s alright that we brought ice cream, Mrs. Mills,” Benny said with a short chuckle, holding up a colorful box towards her. “Care for some B&J’s?” 

“That’s alright, I have to get to my next patient.”

“Oh, Mrs. Mills, won’t you stay just a few minutes?” Meg exclaimed, having already taken a bite of ice cream. She was sprawled out by Dean’s feet, her thick, brown hair like a mane around her neck. 

“I’m sorry.” Jody shrugged and chose to empathize her argument by taking hold of the stethoscope around her neck with both hands. She let her gaze flicker around the kids for a few moments, pausing at Cas, proud to see how he had delved into a conversation already. He was doing good. Despite the years of being bullied both at school and at home, he had turned out to be one of the kindest individuals she had ever had the good fortune to get to know. 

Next to him sat Sam, a little shy since he didn’t know the rest of them, but he was catching on quickly. 

Dean smiled at her as their eyes locked. As always, he was completely aware of everyone in the room. He had noticed the way she had been observing each of them and waited for his turn. 

The bruises on his face had begun to fade, but he still looked awful. Her smile faltered a little as she remembered how she hadn’t even recognized him when he had been brought in. Blood and vomit and snot had covered his clothes, his skin and his hair. 

He had looked closed to dead.

His looks had not improved much.

Now, he looked tired. She knew for a fact that he had been sleeping the entire night, because of the sleeping pills she had given him and watched him take after he had asked for them. 

No, the exhaustion in his eyes was not due to lack of sleep. There were other ways to be tired.

Jody gave him a smile and raised her hand in a little wave as a goodbye, and closed the door behind her on her way out. 

She knew what she had to do. 

 

“Donna Hanscum speaking,” the kind voice said as greeting. Jody cleared her throat before she replied. 

“Hello, this is Dr. Jody Mills, Dean Winchester’s doctor.”

“Dr. Mills, how can I help you?”

“Actually, I’m not even sure if you’re the right person to call about this.”

“Spill and we’ll find out. I’m assuming it has something to do with Dean?”

“Yes and no. It’s about his brother.”

“His brother?”

“I want to become his legal guardian.” 

≤•≥

When a hand put pressure on Dean’s shoulder to wake him up, he hadn’t expected it to belong to Jody. 

The room was dark. It was late. 

Cas’s four friends had come in like a whirlwind with ice cream and jokes and an energy that had been contagious. Now, however, they had been gone for a few hours and all the lights in his rooms were turned off. It was kind of hard to keep your spirits up when you were alone in the dark. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Jody said softly, and Dean could just make out the shape of her body where she sat perched on the edge of the chair next to his bed. 

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“By choice?”

“Partly.” He couldn’t see it, but he knew that she was smiling. 

“I spoke to Donna this afternoon.”

“Have they found him yet?”

A pause. 

“No, I’m sorry.” 

Dean could feel his heartbeat. 

“What did she say?”

“We talked about Sam, and-“

A chill went down Dean’s spine. “What about him?”

“I have a proposition for you. And I want you to know that I can’t guarantee anything, but that I want to try.”

“Try to do what?”

She paused again. Dean counted three excessively deep breaths before she spoke.

“What would you say if I said that I would like to become Sam’s legal guardian?”  
Dean held his breath. Footsteps passed by the door and disappeared down the hall. 

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Same reason I’m taking care of Cas. I can’t stand seeing children suffer.”

“Cas isn’t a child,” Dean protested, purely on instinct because of how wrong that sounded.

“You should have seen him seven months ago.” 

“But he is your relative. You have no logical reason to take in Sam.” 

“Maybe I don’t. Maybe he would be better off with someone else. And maybe he would be better off living in this city, with people he knows. Either way, I’m not going to do it without your consent.”

“Jody, you can’t be fucking _serious_. This is huge. I can’t let you do this.” 

“You’re not “letting” me do anything. I’m fully aware of what I’m stepping into. I’m an adult, and I’m twice your age. I know what I want – I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Now I’m asking you what you want.”

“I’d have to ask Sammy.”

“Of course.”

“And Cas! Shit, have you talked to him? Would he be okay with it?”

“I wanted to ask you first. If I know him right, and I think I do, he’ll be okay with it.” 

“I don’t know, Jody, I really don’t. I want to say yes, but I can’t. Not yet.”

“Not until you’ve asked Sam.”

“No.”

“That’s alright. Just remember that sooner or later PCSA will show up, and if you haven’t decided by then they’ll do whatever they think is best.” 

“PCSA?”

“Ohio’s public children services agencies.”

“What will they do?”

”Best case scenario? They find a good home for Sam, where he’ll be taken care of, go to a good school, and be close enough for you to visit. Worst case? He’ll be sent to a foster home at the other side of the country.”

”Oh.” 

“Exactly. If I were you, I’d ask him first thing tomorrow. For now, I’d take one of those pills I gave you and get some sleep.” 

“Will do, ma’am.” She left him alone shortly after that, with a million questions shooting through his mind. Could this be it? Could Jody be the solution? 

Once again, he found that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He felt like a ten-year-old kid who couldn’t decide whether to wear the blue or the black t-shirt.

He couldn’t make decisions like these. 

The little jar with sleeping pills stood next to his head, taunting him, close enough to reach without having to sit up. 

Dean closed his eyes. He couldn’t sleep when there was so little time left. 

 

Cas came early the next morning, before visiting hours began. He came alone. 

“Where’s Ty?” was Dean’s first question as Cas stepped through the door. Dean noticed how he flinched a little as he took in Dean’s appearance, which must have been considerably worse than the day before. The whole not-sleeping-thing that had been going on for a few days now had both physical and psychological effects. Most of all Dean was just tired. On the plus-side, they had removed the tube that had been going into his chest, which made breathing just a bit easier. 

“Jody wouldn’t let him come, he’s got a pretty bad cold. She told me to tell you to call him at noon.” He strolled into the room and took his usual seat on the chair next to Dean’s bed, propping his legs up on the edge of it after taking his shoes off. Dean let his hand rest on his left foot and rubbed it with his thumb. Cas’s feet were extremely ticklish. 

Cut it out,” he snapped. Dean stopped. He let the silence play on for a few moments. 

“Did Jody talk to you? About-“

How could he possibly ask that question without letting Cas know of Jody’s proposition? He lowered his gaze to where his hand touched Cas’s foot. His left arm pounded underneath the bandage. 

“She asked me if I would mind sharing a room with Sam for the next five years, if that’s what you mean.” Dean had a hard time reading Cas’s expression, and so he couldn’t really tell if Cas _would_ mind exactly that. He cleared his throat, feeling the stitches on his stomach pull at the movement. 

“Well? What do you think?” he asked nervously.

Cas cracked a smile.“I think it’s brilliant. And I think you should say yes.”

“I just-“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare turn this away. This is your best shot.” Dean angrily shook his head through gritted teeth. 

“You don’t understand…” he muttered quietly, not sure if he wanted Cas to hear the words – but he did. 

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t understand why you would even _hesitate_ to let one of the only adults you know take care of your brother, so that you don’t have to see him being shipped off to god knows where. Am I missing something?”

“He’s _my_ brother,” Dean exclaimed, stabbing an angry finger at his chest. “He’s all I got left! And of course I don’t want him to be sent away, but what Jody wants to do is too much.”

“She made it very clear that it was her idea, not yours.”

“But she’s doing it for my sake. What’s the difference? She doesn’t want to become Ty’s legal guardian, she just doesn’t want him to suffer.” 

“Doesn’t she have the right to want to give him a stable home, close to you? Why is it so difficult for you to understand that she just wants to help?” 

Dean leaned forward suddenly, clutching his chest. A magnificent pain had flared up in his scars, and he had to bite his tongue to stop from screaming out loud. It was too much. Too much for one brain to handle. 

No one ever wanted to just help. There was always an ulterior move at work, always something required in return. All his life he’d been taught to not take any favors, since he’d have to repay them, sooner rather than later. 

“No one’s stupid enough to do something like that,” Dean groaned, leaning back as the pain subsided. Cas was standing up, looking about ready to run to the nurse’s station outside the room, with a look of horror on his face. Dean chuckled, coughed, and forced a smile. 

“You’re white as a ghost. Should I get someone?”

“I’m fine,” he said, dismissing the question with a wave. “Sit down.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m fine! Leave it,” he growled, fixing Cas with a stern look. He was extremely aware of the fact that his right arm was completely bare, but he had to ignore it. 

_It’s not real_ , he told himself. The pain was down to a dull throbbing. 

Cas was upset. It was all too easy to read his body language, tense muscles and teeth clamped together. There were so many things about him that Cas knew now, and it frightened Dean more than he would like to admit. Cas’s background was a mystery of scattered stories and comments, while Dean’s was out there in the open for anyone to peek at. 

No matter how sick it sounded, his scars were the only part of him that was truly his. He hated them, yes, but he somehow felt like he was in control of them as long as they were a secret. He was the one to decide whether or not Cas could see them, and Cas just had to accept that. 

That, and the fact that they occasionally caused him nauseating pain. 

“Why the fucking hell would she want to help us?” His voice grumbled through the words, dark and rough and filled with rage. But Cas didn’t back down. Not anymore. 

“Because she is a _good person_.” Something changed in Cas’s eyes as he said the words, and Dean stared in wonder as they filled with a look that Dean had seen only once before –in Jo’s eyes, when she’d spoken of him. Something burned behind Dean’s eyelids. He blinked away a tear as Cas continued to speak.

“She knows that she can make things better, and she wants to try. So let her. Please, let her try.” Cas’s expression softened as Dean angrily wiped a hand underneath his eye. 

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” he said finally, exhaling forcefully. Too forcefully, because it hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter.

“I knew I’d be able to convince you,” Cas smiled, and it was a stupid thing to do at the moment but Dean couldn’t stop himself from loving that about him. 

And _whoa_ – did he just admit to loving a part of Cas? 

The thought scared him more than anything he’d yet gone through that day, which had been a lot, considering that it wasn’t even midday. 

Did he love Cas?

Yes. Yes, he did. A scary, wonderful, comforting thought. He loved him. It made his chest ache in a strangely pleasant way. 

“You’re a fucking moron,” he sighed, and fumbled for his hand. Warm, but not clammy. Soft, compared to Dean’s calloused skin. 

Dean was angry, and scared, and completely clueless as to what he was supposed to do, but somehow things were alright anyway. Because Cas was there, and Sam was being taken care of by Jody, and somewhere along the way Cas’s friends had become his friends as well. His smile was enough for Cas to lean forwards and give him a soft kiss that soon turned into something a bit less innocent. They broke apart, breathless, and Dean had to bite back the three words he wanted to say. 

“Your phone,” Cas mumbled, nose pressed against his neck. 

“What?”

“Someone’s calling you.”

“No one ever calls me,” Dean groaned, but reached for his phone anyways. 

“Who is it?”

“Crowley.” Cas hummed into Dean’s skin, the vibrations tickling madly. “Can you back off? I should answer.” A moan erupted into Dean’s neck, but soon Cas had pulled away. He sat on his chair again and let his head rest on Dean’s right hipbone. Dean tried not to let it distract him as he accepted the call. 

“It’s Dean,” he replied, wondering why Crowley would be calling him. 

“ _You son of a bitch, where the hell are you?_ ”

“Hawaii?”

“ _No, seriously. Shit just went south on 56_ _ th _ _, there are cops everywhere. I was on my way home from your house, and guess what? No one was home.”_

“I’m at the hospital.”

“ _For real? Are you alive?”_

“Just about.”

“ _So what happened?”_ Dean’s words got stuck in his throat. Giving up Asmodeus had been easy, the old man was a mean bully who had threatened to kill him more than once. But Lisa? If the cops were raiding Asmodeus’s house, they were most likely at Lisa’s as well. Dean knew that she was a criminal, but he had considered her to be a friend. If circumstances had been different, maybe even a girlfriend. He couldn’t say. He could only hope that she would be smart enough to make the same kind of deal as he had done. 

“I gave the cops Asmodeus’s full name and address. No more drugs runs for me.”

“ _Good for you, I guess.”_

“Look, man, I’m glad you called, I really am. But now isn’t a good time.” 

“ _I understand.”_ Dean could almost hear the disappointment in Crowley’s voice, surprised that it was there at all. Cas had shown him an entire new kind of friendship, and now that he looked back at his time with Crowley he had no idea why they had become friends at all. He supposed that they’d had some similarities, but not anymore. 

“Anyways, I’ll see you? At school maybe?”

“ _Yeah, see you._ ” 

He hung up without another word. 

“You could have talked to him, I wouldn’t mind,” Cas said quietly, propping his elbow on the edge of Dean’s bed. 

“I have more important things to do.”

“Like what?” Cas scoffed, and a huge grin spread on Dean’s face. 

“Like kissing my boyfriend.” 

≤•≥

When it turned out that Sam was completely on board with Jody’s proposition, Cas wasn’t surprised. He suspected that his aunt had asked Sam herself before Dean had time to call him. 

Now it was all down to Dean. And honestly, Cas wasn’t sure what he would choose. His refusal to believe that Jody _wanted_ to help could be enough to ruin her chances of actually helping. However, despite what Cas or Jody, or even Sam for that Matter, thought was best, it was still Dean’s decision. Cas knew that Jody wouldn’t do anything without his permission.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean said softly. He had spent the last couple of minutes running his fingers around Cas’s hand, a tantalizing touch.

“Nothing, really. You?”

“Nothing,” Dean copied, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“You know what I’m thinking about.” Dean’s fingers stopped moving. Cas desperately wanted him to continue. 

“Then think of something else. Come on, cheer me up. I’m a cripple.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Not really.” Dean did a pouty face and squeezed his hand. 

“Something interesting must have happened outside this hospital. Entertain me.”

“Naomi showed up at our house Wednesday morning.”

“Naomi as in your _sister_ Naomi?”

“Yep.” 

Cas was a bit pleased to have stunned Dean enough to shut him up for a second. However when he had recovered, there was no way to refuse answering his questions. 

“Why did she come? What did she want?”

“Honestly? I’m still not sure. She didn’t quite seem to know herself. At first she was really kind, you know, and I was sort of hoping that maybe, just maybe, she had changed. That maybe they all had. But then she met Jody and went straight back to the sister I remember.”

“So what are you thinking?”

“About what?” Dean swallowed, visibly struggling with what he was about to say. 

“Well, do you want to go back? To your family?”

Cas almost smiled. Almost. The question was sweet, and Dean seemed a little insecure about it, but it shattered Cas’s heart. He wanted to stay with Jody, he wanted to live in Cleveland. But deep inside he still wished that his parents could accept him. He wished that choosing Jody didn’t have to mean losing them. 

That wasn’t exactly something he could tell Dean. 

“They wouldn’t take me back,” he answered instead.

“Are you sure? Like, 100 percent? Because from what I’ve learned, people can forgive you for the craziest things.”

“You don’t…ugh, it’s not the same.”

“Tell me.”

“They’re not the ones who need to forgive me. I’m the one who has to forgive them, and I’m not sure I can do that.” 

Dean resumed to making circles in Cas’s palm, his eyes locked on their hands. 

“Will you tell me what they did?” 

Cas wondered what would happen if he revisited all those memories that he had effectively locked away since he’d moved to Cleveland. Maybe he would never be able to hide them again if he brought them out. 

But maybe he needed to remember – and maybe Dean deserved to know. 

“Inias,” Cas said suddenly, surprised that he remembered the name so quickly. 

“Who?”

“The son in the house next to ours.” Understanding spread on Dean’s face. 

“The guy you kissed.” Cas nodded in affirmation. 

“We were good friends. Sometimes I’d go play at his house, sometimes he’d come play at our house. When we got older we spent most of our time in their treehouse.”

“Which was where the kiss happened?”

“You’re awfully interested in this kiss,” Cas teased, and Dean protested by pinching his lower arm. With a swat of his hands and a sigh Cas continued. “It was a late afternoon, and it was hot, and we were bored.”

“And…?”

“And he asked me if I wanted to make out.”

“Just like that?” Dean grinned, leaning back in the bed. Cas caught a glimpse of red on his arm and quickly looked away.

“Well, yes. I guess I was curious. It was my first real kiss.”

“How old were you?” 

“Twelve, a few weeks before my thirteenth birthday. Why, what did you do that summer?” Cas teased, but as Dean considered what he had done his expression turned dark. Not knowing how to interpret Dean’s change of mood, Cas tightened his hold on his hand and tugged at it a little, trying to get his attention.

“What happened?” 

Dean snapped out of it at the sound of his voice. He blinked a few times and exhaled deeply, too deeply because it sent him into a coughing fit but soon he recovered and put on a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“My mom died that summer,” he revealed, and Cas chastised himself for putting his foot in his mouth. So much for cheering him up. 

“Hey, I’m sorry-“ he began, but Dean waved his apology away. 

“It’s alright, I’m not made of glass. Tell me more about Inias.”

Cas smiled weakly, and told him about his first kiss. 

 

“Hang on, it was Naomi who found you in the treehouse?”

“Yep.”

“And instead of talking to you she took a picture to show your parents?”

“Yep,” Cas repeated. 

“Wow. Sibling loyalty at its best.”

“The age difference between us was too large. She had more loyalty towards mom and dad than me.” Dean scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. 

“So what then? Jody showed up and saved the day, as per usual?”

“Not quite. They called my form teacher, and I was grounded. And the next day the entire school knew about it.”

“Parson Christian High School, the place where everyone judges or is being judged,” Dean said formally, spreading his hands in front of his face in a flashy gesture. 

“Sad but true,” Cas muttered in response. Dean nudged his arm, sort of saying that it was okay even though it wasn’t. 

“Your family is seriously screwed up, dude.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cas bit back, sticking his tongue out at him before adding, “They weren’t all that bad. Samandriel was always on my side, no matter what. Unfortunately he didn’t have a lot to put up against my mother.”

“And her name is…Becky…?”

“Becky,” Cas confirmed.

“See, I’m starting to learn. That’s what happens when I’m bored.”

“You learn stuff?”

“I remember stuff – there’s a difference.”

“Maybe we should do some homework then, Benny has sent me a list of everything we’ve missed.”

“He didn’t-“

“He went to your form teacher and asked for your homework too.”

“Damn, he’s thorough.”

“He likes to look out for people,” Cas said and shrugged. Like so many times before, he took a moment to observe Dean, to really _see_ him, and his chest filled with a warm sensation. This was happiness. Dean was his happiness. 

He was so screwed. 

“Your aunt’s on the way in,” Dean grinned, presumably because he was suspecting that Cas was about to burrow his nose into the crook of his neck and let it stay there for a while. Cas surprised himself by letting out a quiet growl, but at least it made

Dean smile and that smile was worth all the humiliation in the world. 

The door opened, and Cas tore his eyes away from Dean. He was expecting a Jody with the same stressed, slightly upset look that she had had for so many days now.   
What he hadn’t expected was a wide smile and a wheelchair. 

“Oh hell no, no way I’m getting in that!” Dean exclaimed, putting as much distance between himself and the wheelchair as he possibly could in his state. 

“You are officially discharged from the hospital, meaning that you have to leave this room before the next patient arrives. Were you planning on using just the one crutch, or letting me and Cas carry you?” Jody sighed, as if she had known that this was the way he was going to react. Cas shot a look at Dean – he didn’t look meltdown-upset, just ordinary-upset. 

“I thought your biggest dream was to be pushed around in a wheelchair by me?” Cas teased, Dean scoffing in response.

“I’d rather crawl on my ass all the way home.”

“Maybe that’d make it easier for all of us,” Cas mumbled, eyes still glued to Dean’s. Something dawned on him just then, and Cas could see the exact instant the panic reached his eyes. He took a heaving breath that sent him off coughing, as if he had been underwater and had just cleared the surface. It made Cas instinctively reach a hand towards him. Dean took it, but turned to Jody when he spoke. 

“Do I have to go home?”

“You can’t stay here. I could give you a lecture on how you’re not a high-priority patient anymore, but to put it simply: you can’t afford it. Up till now the hospital’s free clinic has been in charge of you, and because of your age the surgery team decided to dub it as a pro-bono surgery. However, if you choose to stay, you’ll have to pay.” 

“I don’t have any money.”

“Which is why you have to leave.”

“But-“ Cas could see how he cut himself off. The fear was visible in his entire body. “I don’t want to go home,” he said at last, quietly. Some last puzzle piece seemed to fall into place in Jody’s brain as she finally understood his reluctance to leave. She approached him gently, leaving the wheelchair by the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. 

“How about a place on a couch in the five-star Mills hotel?” 

Cas followed the movement of Dean’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Then their eyes met. Cas smiled carefully, not wanting to push him.

“It’s too much. Seriously.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Jody replied. Cas was grinning inside, and he had to fight not to let it show too much. Whatever had he done to deserve someone like Jody? She was too good to be true. 

_No,_ he thought, as he could see the infinitesimal shred of resistance drain from Dean. _She was too good to be made up._

“Yes,” Dean breathed.

“I’m sorry, was that a yes?” Jody teased.

“Yes! Alright! At least for a few nights, till I’ve recovered.” 

Jody’s smile was contagious, and soon the three of them were hugging and grinning like children.

 

“You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?” Cas asked. He and Jody had stepped out for a few minutes, allowing Dean some privacy as he changed into some clothes that Jody had been thoughtful enough to bring. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jody replied, faking an innocent look. 

“Right.”

“I guess I don’t have to ask your permission?”

Cas shook his head swiftly. “He should stay with us. They both should. I could get a job-“

“You will focus on the last few months you have left of school, and _then_ you can get a job if you want. We’ll manage until then.”

“You’re like a super-mommy to all of us. Jody the super-mommy!” Cas laughed, and got his hair tousled as a reward. 

“Back to business: the police officer in charge called, and she revealed that PCSA is coming tomorrow to interview Sam and me.”

“Whoa, so soon? Has Dean told you what he’s decided yet?”

“I’m not sure he even has decided. However he did clear my suggestion of at least talking to the PCSA, so I guess that’s one step in the right direction.” 

“You’ve really looked into this, haven’t you?”

“I looked it up when you first came to stay with me, to see if there was any way of going around your parents. But I talked to Chuck, and he-“

“You’ve talked to dad about it?”

“Yes. He was willing to pay me for letting you live here, if it meant that you could be happy.” 

Cas fell silent. When he brought up a mental image of his father, all he could see was the look on his face when he’d told him that he had deserved getting beat up. That he had no one but himself to blame.

“He said that? He said that he wants me to be happy?”

“Of course he does, Cas. He and I have disagreed too many times in our lives, but he’s not a monster. He’s my brother as much as he is your father.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly. Jody gave him a sympathetic smile, and pulled him into a hug. 

“He’s always hoped that you could return some day, but he knows that neither of you are ready for it at the moment.”

“He could have just told me!” Cas scoffed, surprisingly upset. He broke free of the embrace and turned his gaze towards the door that led into Dean’s room. The fact that Dean was right there beyond that door soothed him. 

“If they can’t accept me for who I am…” he began, but his voice died off. 

“Maybe you need to be able to accept them too? What you are, the person you have grown up to be, it goes against all their beliefs. You can’t expect them to immediately understand.”

“They’ve known for five years. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“You have to talk to them about it if you want them to understand.” She held up her hand to stop Cas when he began to protest. “I’m not saying that it’s your fault. They’re equally guilty of everything that’s happened, and they haven’t given you a proper chance, but someday they will. And I hope that you won’t discard it just because of your past.” 

Cas frowned and turned his gaze down. He didn’t want to argue with her, despite knowing in his heart that she was wrong. All his life he’d thought that there was something wrong with him, just because of his family’s beliefs. However he wouldn’t keep pestering Jody, especially now that Dean seemed to be finished.

“Alright I’m done, where’s the fucking wheelchair?” his voice called from inside the room. Cas and Jody shared a smile and went inside. 

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the door. He cradled his left arm against his chest. With the sweatpants and the hoodie – that Cas realized belonged to him – he looked more like a grumpy kid on an early morning than a young adult on his way out of the hospital. No matter what, it was quite entertaining for Cas to see him in something that wasn’t jeans or a hospital gown. 

“Dude, these sweatpants are gold,” he grinned, and Cas could feel a blush creep up his neck. Worse still was that Dean noticed, his smile growing slowly.

“Here’s your chair, your highness,” Jody interrupted, rolling the wheelchair to Dean’s side. He transferred to it without help, but when it was time to leave Jody took hold of the handles, discarding his every attempt at moving it on his own. 

“I’m going to discharge Dean and take him downstairs, will you get the car?” Jody said to Cas, handing him the keys simultaneously. Whether Jody wanted a few words alone with Dean, or if she didn’t have some ulterior purpose with sending him off alone, Cas couldn’t tell. He left them alone either way. 

 

Sam was waiting impatiently in front of a blank TV-screen when they finally arrived at home that afternoon. Despite not being quite rid of his cold yet, he greeted Dean with a massive hug that neither of the brothers seemed to want to break, all of this while trying to inconspicuously check the physical condition of each other.

“You okay kid?” Dean mumbled at last, looking up at him as he stood up. 

“You’re the one in the wheelchair.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want me to sign your cast for you?”

“Shut your fucking mouth or you’ll get one yourself.”

“Can’t help but love these family reunions, right Cas?” Jody interrupted, and the four of them laughed. 

“We can’t thank you enough, Jody,” Dean said at last, a sobering admission. Jody shook her head with a smile and gave them a long look each. 

“You two boys have lived through more than anyone ever should. I just wanted to help.”

At those words, Sam burst into tears. Dean instinctively reached towards him and cursed under his breath as he failed to move the chair forwards, but Cas had the insight to act and help him. Once Dean had his arm around Sam’s shoulders and their heads were pressed together, the younger brother calmed down. 

“It’s okay, Sam,” Jody said softly. “Sometimes people just want to make other people feel better. You’ll learn that those who do easily outnumber those who don’t.”

“I think we’re both just glad that it’s over,” Dean replied, and Cas had to bite back his words. 

Because it wasn’t over. John was still out there, and the cops seemed to have no leads on him, despite everything that Dean had told them. It hadn’t been decided whether or not Sam was going to be allowed to live with them, and even if he was, what was Dean going to do? Live alone in a home filled with all too many bad memories? 

It wasn’t over. This was more like an intermission between two halves of a TV-show. Now they just had to wait for the other half to begin. 

 

A couple of peaceful days passed. A short bearded man from the PCSA interviewed Jody and Sam, took a look around the house and left as soon as he had come without any drama. 

Sam and Cas went back to school a few days, and with Jody working, Dean spent a lot of days alone at home. It was affecting him, Cas could tell, but he stubbornly refused to talk about it. 

Something else he refused to talk about was the scars. Since Dean’s injuries demanded that he slept on something a little more adjusted to sleeping on than the living room couch, their sleeping situation had changed quite a bit. A spare mattress had been placed in Cas’s room for Sam, Dean used Cas’s bed, and Cas alternated between the couch and Jody’s bed when she was at work. 

The situation meant that Cas stood no chance in seeing a shirtless Dean, which could have spurred a conversation about the marvelous red flames. 

It was also frustrating because of Cas’s growing affection towards Dean. His friend, boyfriend, Cas didn’t know anymore. 

One odd afternoon, when Cas and Dean were studying for once instead of lying in front of the TV, Dean was wearing a t-shirt. The red on his arm kept flashing every time he moved his hand to turn a page in the history book that he had borrowed from Cas. 

Too soon, Cas found himself waiting for Dean to finish reading a page just so he would move his arm. 

And of course Dean, being Dean, noticed. 

“How are you getting along with your essay?”

“Huh?” Cas met his gaze. Dean seemed more amused than annoyed, but he still tugged his arm a little closer to his body. 

“You’re staring.”

“I’m writing about the nerves system.”

“The hell you are.” Cas couldn’t come up with a reply to that, so he looked away, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“No wonder I’m staring when you haven’t shown me any skin in a week,” he muttered, low enough for Dean not to hear. He didn’t ask him to repeat himself. 

“I’m never going to be able to graduate,” Dean groaned, and pushed the book away from him. The condition of his wrist had improved, but he was still not able to roll the wheelchair long distances without help. Cas looked up. 

“Well, I won’t do it without you, so you better focus.”

“Why do I even need to know this shit? It doesn’t matter if Hitler died in May or June.”

“Maybe not, but it matters that he died. History is important.”

“I’m not complaining about history. I’m complaining about everything, it’s just too much to learn in six months.”

“Six months is quite a long time-“

“I fucking know that, okay?” he snapped. Cas flinched, and he could feel a frown growing between his eyebrows. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas said gently, waiting for the smile that never showed on Dean’s lips. 

“I can’t do this. Not while I’m worrying about Sam, and John, and now you two as well.”

“Yes, you can. And you will, because you are smart enough. You’re smarter than me.”

“Your grades are better.”

“And I study all the time, which you don’t. You’re graduating in June, studying is the only thing you should be concerned about.”

“Can’t we take a break at least? We’ve been at it for hours.” Cas glanced at his watch, and had to hide a nervous smile as he noticed that it was 2pm. 

“Jody’s leaving for work any minute now.”

“And Sam’s last lesson ends at 4pm today.” Dean grinned, and so Cas grinned, the knot in his stomach unraveling slightly.

“So what should we do?”

“I reckon we’ll be able to think of something,” Dean suggested, raising an eyebrow seductively.

Cas laughed. It was a good thing, to still remember how to do that.

“I have ears, you know,” Jody called as she entered the living room where their books were spread out on the table. She laughed and added, “Never have two boys gotten so embarrassed at the same time. Don’t worry, I only have one thing to say about it. You’re both eighteen, so I can’t exactly stop you from doing whatever you plan on doing. But please, use protection.” 

“Aunt J-“ Cas mumbled, but he stopped as she raised her hand. 

“Just have a look in the bottom drawer in the bathroom.” She turned to go to the front door, stopped, and looked back at them again. “God knows I love you two boys. Be careful.”

“Aunt J!”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” she chuckled, darting out of the house.

Once the front door was closed and they had sat in nothing but silence for a few moments, Cas moaned and scratched the side of his head.

”That was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever lived through,” he muttered, enticing a laugh from Dean. 

“How about we take a look in that drawer?”

Cas rolled him to the bathroom, a million thoughts racing through his head. He knew exactly what was in the drawer, and he was pretty sure that Dean did too. However, Cas also suspected that Dean was quite experienced when it came to sex, while he himself had no experience whatsoever. He’d never even seen a sex-scene in a movie with two guys, so his ideas of how it was done were quite scattered. Would Dean expect him to know what to do, and grow tired of him when he realized that he didn’t? 

Cas could feel his palms clamming up, but thankfully Dean couldn’t see his face.   
It was a bit of a struggle to get the wheelchair over the threshold into the bathroom, but once inside Dean leaned forwards, scanning the room for what could pass as a bottom drawer. 

Cas pointed towards the right one, and felt his breath hitch as Dean pulled it open without preamble. 

“Cas…?” he said slowly, twisting his head back to reveal a face of confusion. 

“What is it?”

“Sun lotion.” The disappointment on Dean’s face was priceless, enough to actually make Cas laugh. 

“She did tell us to ‘use protection’.”

“But-“

“Look again, Aunt J can’t do anything without pranking us first.” Dean turned back with a shrug, and soon a little wooden box rested on his lap. He opened it gingerly, and grinned as he recognized its contents.

“Now we’re talking,” he said gleefully. Cas peeked inside, and spotted a few packs of condoms and a bottle marked with ‘lube’. 

“Lube?” Cas asked, before he could stop himself. A wolfish grin appeared on Dean’s face as he looked up. 

“Lube,” he confirmed. Cas’s heart-rate quickened and he swallowed hard. Was he supposed to know what lube was good for? He tried to return Dean’s smile, but his change of mood had already been spotted. 

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to. We can watch a movie or something instead.”

“No, I want to, I just… I mean, I’ve never…” He caught himself in the ramble, and bit his lip. 

“You never…?”

Wasn’t Dean supposed to just understand? Did he have to spell it out for him?

“I’ve never, you know…”

“I really don’t,” Dean said gently, taking his hand and placing a kiss on it. “You can tell me, I won’t think anything of it.”

_Breathe in, let the air out_ , Cas told himself.

“I’ve never had sex,” he blurted, and a few moments passed before Dean understood what he had said. 

“Oh,” he replied. “Really?” Cas nodded, dumbstruck. “ _Really?_ ” he repeated, doubt flashing in his eyes. 

“I think I’d know.” 

“Of course you would, I’m sorry, I just… I’d never have thought that you were a virgin. But that’s okay!” he added quickly, as he saw the look of shame on Cas’s face.

“So you’ve never…?”

“Nope.”

“Not with a girl either?”

“Never.”

“Wow.”

“Hmpf,” Cas mumbled, eyes still glued to the ground. 

“Are you sure you want to do this with me? A cripple and a criminal?”

“Who else would I want to do it with?”

“I don’t know, anyone? I’m not exactly suitable for a stable relationship.” Now it was Cas’s turn to offer reassurances, so he stepped around the chair to sit on the closed toilet seat. 

“I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen very carefully,” Cas began, Dean’s hands in his.

“I’m all ears.”

“I love you, Dean Winchester. I don’t know how that happened, but I do.”

“Kiss me,” was Dean’s only reply. Cas was quick to obey. 


	20. Chapter 20

“Was that about how you had expected?” Dean asked softly, relishing in the feeling of Cas’s body flush against his, his head resting heavily on his chest. He would do anything to make this moment last a little longer, a few more minutes. 

“It was good.”

“That’s all I get? ‘Good’?” Cas shuffled about slightly as if he wanted to pull away, but Dean held on tightly. _Just a few more minutes_. At last, Cas understood and relaxed. 

“Well, I didn’t do anything, and you didn’t even…” He raised his hand and made a little incomprehensible gesture, before letting it drop again. “I mean, I enjoyed it, but I’m sure you couldn’t have?”

“You mean I didn’t have an orgasm?” Cas cleared his throat at his words, and Dean adored how uncomfortable he was with this kind of talk – what he adored even more was the fact that he was still trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yes.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Are you sure? Because I could…you know…” It dawned on him then that Cas was offering to do something in return. He was surprised to admit it, but at the moment all he wanted to do was lie right there with Cas in his arms. 

Not very gracefully, Cas moved around, during Dean’s subtle protests, until their noses were no more than a millimeter apart. They kissed, and oh, how sweet wasn’t Cas’s mouth? His little moans when Dean ran his tongue along his lips. His fingers trailing the side of his head, then his neck.

When the fingers continued down, past his chest and towards his crotch, Dean pulled away, gasping for breath.

“What are you doing?” he panted, grabbing Cas’s hands.

“I’m repaying the favor,” Cas grinned, reaching for another kiss.

“Please, don’t.” Cas’s body stiffened, and his smile vanished. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m exhausted,” Dean whispered, planting a kiss on his left hand. “And my body hurts, literary everywhere.” Cas immediately lifted his own body weight off of Dean, and Dean would lie if he didn’t say that he craved the pressure, despite the pain it brought. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Cas frowned, visibly not pleased with his response. “Lie down next to me,” Dean breathed, not sure if Cas would want to. However, after some inner debate, Cas made himself comfortable against Dean’s side once again, drawing little circles with his index finger through Dean’s shirt – which he’d kept on for obvious reasons. But Cas didn’t mention it, and Dean was immensely grateful for that. 

“I love you too, I hope you know that,” Dean sighed, pressing his lips against the top of Cas’s head. In that moment, he didn’t even realize what he’d just admitted to. It just felt so natural to tell Cas how he was feeling, after Cas had confessed his love earlier. Because he did love Cas. He loved his little soft smiles, the feeling of his hand when it messed up his hair, his wisdom and quirkiness. He loved every millimeter of his skin, and he even loved the things that would annoy him occasionally. 

“I had my suspicions,” Cas replied, interrupting Dean’s line of thought. A cold nose snuggled up against Dean’s chest, and before long his breathing was too even for him to be awake. 

Dean _was_ exhausted, but not in such a way that he wanted to sleep. In fact, he dreaded going to bed every night, because the thousands of thoughts that constantly occupied his mind grew so much more persistent when he closed his eyes. For now, all he could do was hold his boyfriend, his best friend, in his arms, and listen to his quiet breaths, and remember the time when he had held Jo in his arms. 

God, how they’d fought sometimes. She would scream and curse at him, and he would return the horrible words she had said, and Sam would be in between in a hopeless attempt at trying to get them to stop. And eventually, they would stop, and Jo would blow a few strands of hair out of her face and bury her head in the crook of his neck. She would whisper that she loved him, and he would whisper it back. Some words simply didn’t need to be yelled at the top of their lungs.

Her death was unbelievably unfair, but she was dead. There wasn’t really anything Dean could do about it now, except make sure that he would never forget her. He was not going to repeat the mistake he’d made with his mother, where he had pushed back every memory of her for so long that it was impossible to bring them out into the light again. Sure, he remembered certain things, like the way she smelled like cinnamon even when she’d just stepped out of the shower, her soft voice when she said goodnight to him and Jo, peeking through their door. 

However, those memories might as well be something out of a movie, or something that had happened to someone else. When Dean thought about his mother, his heart didn’t feel heavy in his chest, and he didn’t smile as he remembered the times they’d laughed together. 

He’d removed those memories from his mind.

Cas shuffled in his sleep, his arm ending up across Dean’s stomach, including the surgical scar. Though it didn’t hurt it was uncomfortable, but Dean didn’t dare to move the arm in case he’d wake Cas.

Cas. 

Had he really just told him that he loved him? Had he actually said those infernal words that had bothered him for so long out loud? 

He had. And it seemed to warm his blood. 

Breaking their current position was nearly unthinkable for Dean, watching Cas’s closed eyelids as he snoozed, but now his scars were really starting to hurt, and Cas’s torso was pressing down on his fragile ribcage. He tried to shift his body to make it more comfortable, but his movement only brought a shocking pain to his chest and he cried out, loud enough to wake Cas. 

The moment was over. 

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dean groaned, pressing his head back on the pillow. The chest pain was enough to send off a chain reaction through his nerves, that ultimately ended up firing bullets of razor sharp nails into the scars on his torso. He clutched his sides, unaware of his protesting wrist, and forced himself to take deep breaths. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Cas soothed, his soft voice trying to calm Dean’s mind. He resisted the urge to scream and closed his eyes. 

“No, look at me, Dean,” the voice ordered. He gasped and did as he was told. Blue eyes were in front of him, calm and steady and everything Dean needed at that moment. 

“You’re okay,” the eyes said, as a hand stroke his hair backwards. A few harsh breaths left him feeling carved out and hollow.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he croaked, feeling how his muscles relaxed underneath the strong fingers that moved across them.

“It’s okay,” the hands lied. Or maybe they were telling the truth. Either way, Dean believed the words. 

“May I kiss you?” Cas whispered, and Dean had to stop nodding as their lips touched. They reversed their earlier position, leaving Dean with his head on Cas’s chest and protective arms wrapped around him. 

“What happened?” 

“Phantoms pains,” Dean mumbled in response, feeling a ripple of pain pass through him as he said the words.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

“I get these phantom pains in my…um, in my scars. Never been this bad though.”

“And by phantom, you mean-“

“It’s not real, I’m not injured, but it sure as hell feels like it.”

“Can’t you make it stop? We have painkillers, if that’d help.” Dean shook his head, shivering almost violently at the next wave. 

“Doesn’t help me. Sometimes it passes if I massage the muscles, usually I just drown the pain in alcohol.”

“That sounds healthy,” Cas muttered. Dean was lucid, but the attack wasn’t over and soon the pain intensified. He could no longer keep his eyes open. The horror continued as he pulled away from Cas, rolling onto his back to keep from curling up into a ball – neither his leg nor his ribs would thank him for that. 

“What if I massage you, would that help?”

“I don’t know-“

“I’ll do it through the shirt, don’t worry!” 

“Uh, sure, go ahead,” Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. At first when Cas touched the scars, Dean flinched, but he urged him on to continue. It was a bit hesitant and too gentle at first, but as the kneading, rubbing and stroking intensified, the tension began to leave his muscles. 

He found that he could relax, which was a new experience for him. The lines between his eyebrows smoothed out and he seemed to sink deeper into the bed.

Gradually, the pain subsided, from mind-blowing to nauseating to uncomfortable, annoying, and bearable. Cas slowed his motions as the panic leaved Dean’s body, calming him further.

“I’m good now,” Dean revealed, perhaps a little remorsefully. He would have liked it if Cas continued for the rest of his life, but a few minutes later the hands stopped and nothing but the left thumb was stroking his chest.

“Will you tell me-“

“No.” 

“Dean,” Cas sighed, exasperated. But Dean knew exactly what he wanted to know, and he would not, _could_ not relive those moments when Alastair had tortured him and burned off his skin. 

“Can I see them?” Cas whispered, his voice sounding like he was hoping that Dean wouldn’t hear the question. But he did, and it made him want to cry. More than a year had passed since the incident, and the scars still made Dean nauseous every time he looked at them. 

Maybe he should let Cas have a look. Maybe he owed that to him. However no amount of guilt-tripping would be enough incentive to pull his shirt up. 

His skin bore huge, uneven splashes of red and white, poorly treated when they had been fresh, and nearly rejected as they were healing. 

He couldn’t show Cas his entire torso. But he could let him have a closer look at his arm. 

Reluctantly, he twisted his arm around to expose the red flames that ended just below his elbow. Cas’s reaction brought Dean a gut-wrenching need to vomit, that he somehow staved off. 

“May I?” he whispered, his hand hovering above Dean’s skin. He shrugged in a not too nonchalant way, but Cas gallantly ignored Dean’s obvious embarrassment. As the fingers came in touch with a scar, Dean flinched almost violently. However, he forced himself to not move. This was Cas – kind, humble, beautiful Cas whom he was ridiculously in love with. 

Maybe it was okay for him to look at and touch Dean’s deepest secret. 

“What happened?” Cas breathed, almost too quietly for Dean to hear. He shook his head, unable to find his voice.

“Why won’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

Oh, how it hurt to get those words thrown at him. Of course Dean trusted him, it wasn’t about that anymore. It was pure survival, trying to fight his fear. 

A flicker of pain flared up in his side, and he groaned. 

“Please,” Cas urged, and Dean had to push down the anger that was churning in his gut. He had every right to not tell Cas about this, it was _his_ skin, _his_ scars, and _his_ body. 

“Please, don’t make me,” he replied, instead of tossing the anger at his friend. “I will tell you when I’m ready to.” Cas clenched his jaw trying to accept the answer since it was the only one he was going to get. 

“Bucky needs a walk,” he stated, and pulled away from the bed. Dean hated how upset he was, but what was he supposed to do about it? He couldn’t tell him without breaking apart again, and he was clinging desperately to the small shred of dignity he had left. 

Dean shamelessly watched Cas get dressed, hiding a smile as he rubbed his lower back.

“Do you need some help?” Cas asked, his eyes flickering to the wheelchair next to the bed. 

“I’ll be alright.” He was waiting for Cas to give him a kiss goodbye, a smile, anything to show that things hadn’t changed between them. 

“I’ll see you later, get some sleep,” he said, and left. Dean listened to Bucky’s paws across the floor, Cas’s footsteps in the hallway, and the sound of the door slamming shut and then being locked. 

Dean was alone. 

He’d never liked being alone. 

 

The whole workout that included getting dressed and getting out of the bed and into the wheelchair took Dean the better part of twenty minutes. When he finally sat semi-comfortably in the chair, he suddenly felt the urge to go back to bed. What was the point of being able to sort of move around the house when he didn’t need anything? He wasn’t hungry, and he hadn’t been hungry for days now. He had no energy left to work through the mountain of books that he needed to read.   
The text he received two minutes later didn’t exactly lift his spirits. 

**Going to Jessica’s, I’ll be home before 9.**

Dean sighed and reread the text from his brother. Jealousy sparked inside him, and he hated himself for it. Sam didn’t need to be with him 24/7. His little brother was growing up. 

Being alone meant that Dean had time to reflect upon Cas’s mood when he had left him a few minutes earlier, something he would rather not do. He’d had no cause to be upset. Dean was trying to cope, and he couldn’t do that if it included spilling every piece of his soul to Cas. Most of all, he was afraid of having to deal with the inevitable pity that would follow when he finally told Cas. 

Because of course he would tell him, one day. Just not right now, when there were too many other things that were more important than his mental instability. 

Sam gone for the night. Jody at work. Cas off on a walk, that could last for ten minutes or two hours, depending on his mood – which, admittedly, hadn’t been very good. 

“What to do,” he mumbled.

“Great, now you’re talking to yourself too. Just what we needed.” 

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to talk to.” 

_Shut up,_ he thought, rubbing his temple a little too roughly. 

After a few more minutes of inner monologue he ended up on the couch with headphones in his ears and Green Day bursting his eardrums. 

When Charlie knocked on the door, he didn’t hear it. 

When Charlie somehow got in anyways and tapped him on the shoulder, he sat up all too violently with his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. 

“How the hell did you get in here?” he exclaimed, only then noticing that she had been crying. He made an effort to calm his pulse and blew out all of the air from his lungs. 

“You scared me half to death. What’s wrong?” 

“Is Cas home?” she asked, voice not as unstable as Dean had thought it would be. 

“He went for a walk with Bucky. I don’t know when he’ll be coming home, but you can wait here if you want. That is, if I can’t help you instead.”

“Oh god, I really shouldn’t be here. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Just tell me what happened and I’ll see if I can do something about it.” Charlie groaned and sat down hard next to Dean. 

“It’s about my sister.”

”What about her?”

”Well, she’s four years older than me, and sometimes she lives at home, sometimes with friends, and sometimes we don’t hear from her in a few days.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay, so she left home six days ago, which was perfectly normal. She said she was going to Janie, a friend of hers, but that she’d be home Sunday night.”

“Let me guess: she never came home?”

“She never came home,” Charlie echoed. “We’ve tried to call her, but it rolls straight to voicemail.”

“So something’s wrong. But why not call the police? Why go to Cas to ask him for advice?” Charlie blushed at the words, quickly turning her eyes down. She picked a little at a scab on her right thumb. 

“She’s been…mixed up. With some bad people.”

_Oh, please, no._ Dean gritted his teeth. He was all too familiar with being mixed up with the wrong crowd. 

“What kind of bad people?”

“Well, I don’t know any names or anything, only that Anna – that’s her name – came home in the middle of the night once, wearing something that looked like it belonged in a strip club. When she took a shower I looked through her purse, and found drugs.”

“You found drugs in your sister’s purse? You’re sure it wasn’t something else?”

Charlie shook her head. 

“I asked her about it, and she told me. And before you say anything, you’ve got to understand that we’re really close. I’d die before telling mom and dad about it, and-“

A chill went down Dean’s spine, and he tuned out Charlie’s voice. Anna.

“What’s your last name, Charlie?” he asked, not knowing if he interrupted her or not. 

“Bradbury.” Dean swallowed hard. 

“I know your sister,” he revealed.

“You know my sister?” she scoffed in disbelief. 

“Anna Bradbury. Oh god, you even look like her,” Dean groaned, running his hands through his hair. 

“Well she did go to our school-“

“I knew her outside of school. Charlie, do you know why I was in the hospital?”

“Benny said that you’d crashed your car, but I guess that’s not true?”

“He’s just jealous that he doesn’t have an impala…” Dean muttered, but cleared his throat and spoke up as he saw Charlie’s confused face. “I’ve been mixed up with the same bad people as Anna.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m telling the truth. My dad is a drug dealer.” 

Out of all the things Dean had expected Charlie to do, he hadn’t expected her to laugh. But she laughed, she laughed till tears were running down her cheeks, and somewhere along the way she began to cry. 

“Not you too,” she cried, and leaned into Dean’s waiting arms. He could feel her draw wrecking sobs and shushed into her hair. 

“Does the name Asmodeus ring a bell?” The moan that erupted from her was answer enough. “I’ve been helping my dad for the last five years.” 

“And that’s why you were in jail.” 

“11 months. Can you believe that I got out on good behavior?” he joked, but she didn’t laugh. 

“But you’re not still doing it, right?”

“I got a broken leg to prove it.”

“Did they- did Asmodeus-?”

“It was my dad.”

“Your _dad_?” 

“Perhaps not the ideal father-figure. When I was sent to the hospital, the police were called as well. I gave them names, every name that I could remember.”

“Was Anna one of those names?” Dean ducked his head and searched his memories. He’d been running through the list over and over again since he’d heard ‘Anna Bradbury’. Now he was sure.

“No, I didn’t give them her name. There were so many others, and I haven’t seen Anna in a few years.”

“So where could she be?”

“My best guess? She’s hiding from the police, or from Asmodeus.”

“Where? Where would she hide?”

“I don’t know, all the places I could think of I gave to the police. If Asmodeus isn’t upset with her, she’s probably wherever he is.”

“But-“

“Listen. As long as she stays on Asmodeus’s good side she’ll be fine, and if I know her right she’s smart enough to do just that. I doubt that Asmodeus will be caught any time soon, he’s got too many contacts and too much money.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” 

Dean almost smiled. How many times hadn’t he asked himself that exact question? 

_What am I supposed to do?_

“Sit tight. Call her again, leave messages. Wait for her to call you. And decide what you’ll do if you find her.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the first thing you’ll do is call the cops, she won’t be so keen on coming back.”

“Are you telling me that I should break the law?”

“No. I’m telling you to consider what you are ready to do for your sister.” Charlie pondered on that, straightening up a little so she could look into Dean’s eyes. He was uncomfortable holding her gaze for so long, but he forced himself to not look away.

“What would you do? If it was Jo?”

He smiled weakly and said, “I’d die for her.” 

 

Charlie had to go to work soon after that, so Dean let her leave with a heavy feeling in his chest. She had revealed that Cas kept a key hidden on top of the window frame of the window to the left of the front door, and that that was how she had gotten in.  
When she had gone, Dean felt more alone than he had before. Not even Bucky was there to cheer him up. 

Still half lying in the couch, there wasn’t really much to do except put on a film, since the alternative was spending time with his all too depressive thoughts. 

_What am I supposed to do?_

If only he knew the answer to that infernal question. 

When Cas returned, Dean was half asleep on the couch. His arm was tingling, but since moving into a new position would hurt more he stayed still, and admired the numb feeling in the tips of his fingers. 

“You awake?” Cas called softly, and Dean wanted to tell him that he was but at the same time he had no energy left to talk to him, and he didn’t know if Cas would understand that. 

“Dean,” Cas said as he stepped into the living room, and Dean closed his eyes. He nearly smiled as Bucky’s cold nose was pressed against his cheek. 

“Leave him alone, Buck.” The nose disappeared. There was a rustling sound, and then Dean could feel the couch move as Cas climbed into it. Before he knew it, Cas had lied down next to him, his breath tickling Dean’s nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, and burrowed his nose into Dean’s chest. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m so sorry.” 

It took a lot of strength from Dean’s part to not reply to Cas’s apology, because it was so _wrong_ that Cas felt guilty for being curious. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that. 

_Such a coward_ , he told himself. Sure, he was a coward, but it was the only way he knew how to survive. 

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Bucky’s single bark was followed by a knock on the door. During one naïve moment Dean reckoned that it had to be Charlie again, but he quickly discarded that thought. She had gone to work, and this knocking was so ridiculously strict that there was no way it could belong to her. 

Cas untangled himself from Dean and when he left he left a cold imprint on Dean’s body where they had touched. The click-click of Bucky’s paws and Cas’s socks against the floor reached the front door, and Dean listened intently as it was opened. 

“How can I help you?” Cas’s voice spread through the house, but Dean couldn’t hear whoever was at the door. 

Silence, as the other person spoke, then Cas’s voice again. 

“Yes.”

Silence.

“No, she’s at work.”

Silence.

“Well, yes, but-“

Silence again, lasting for a little longer this time. And finally:

“I’ll go get him, you can come inside.” 

Dean took that as his queue to wake up, and he sat up sleepily as a flustered Cas returned to the living room. 

“Who were you talking to?”

“There’s a police officer at the door. He wants to talk to you.” 

“Did he tell you why?” Cas shook his head, and with a sigh Dean reached for the wheelchair. With some assistance he made himself as comfortable as he could in it, but he refused Cas’s help as he rolled to the front door. If he hadn’t been bound to the goddamn wheelchair, it was likely that he would have jumped out a window and run away. To a great extent Dean always tried to avoid the police, mostly because of fear of being arrested again, even when he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Dean didn’t recognize the policeman, which wasn’t all that weird because he’d only ever really been in contact with Donna. However, while Donna was strict but sympathetic, the man in front of him now looked nothing of the sort. The deep creases between his eyebrows seemed to grow deeper as he took in the image of Dean. He scratched his temple with an overly long fingernail and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, his eyes flickering between it and Dean. 

“Are you Dean Winchester?” he grumbled, his voice deep and edged with a British accent.

“Yes.”

“You are under arrest.” 

“He’s what?” Cas exclaimed, taking a step forwards but instantly backing off when the policeman glared at him. 

“On what charges?” Dean asked, his voice surprisingly calm as his insides squirmed and his hands began to shake where he held them clenched around the armrests. 

“Breaking and entering. You have the right to remain silent...” He continued with the Miranda warning as he cuffed Dean’s wrists together in his lap, and helped roll him down to the police car. Cas stayed behind like a living question mark, only springing back to life as Dean called his name. 

“Will you call Jody?” 

“Of course, then I’ll be right behind you.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cas replied, and the policeman coughed uncomfortably. They shared a smile, however it was quickly replaced by countless other emotions. 

Dean was scared to death, his feelings mirrored quite perfectly on Cas’s face. 

 

The ride to the police station was eerily silent. Dean was doing his best to stay calm, and apparently the policeman wasn’t the most talkative guy, at least not after Dean had extracted his name: Ketch. 

”Breaking and entering”? When had he ever broken into someone’s house? As far as he could remember, that was something he had _not_ done, out of all the crimes that he had committed. 

When he had confessed to Donna, she had promised him that all charges against him would be dropped in exchange for the names that he provided. Since then, he had been following the law to 100%. He’d done nothing wrong. 

And still he was entering the police station with cuffs around his wrists and a policeman behind him. They ended up in a small room with the typical one-sided mirror in front of Dean, that he knew led into a second room. He ran his eyes across it, wondering if someone was there, watching him. 

“We’ve had an anonymous tip that someone has been going in and out of Southside Shopping Mall, and that there has been acts of vandalism and theft. Inside one of the cafés there were clear signs that someone had been there, and fingerprints were found all over the furniture, along with some DNA on a number of cigarettes. DNA that matches yours, Dean.” 

Dean groaned and sank deeper into the chair, leaning his head back tiredly. Of course. Of course that one would come back to bite his heels. 

“Do you deny the charges?”

“No,” he sighed, exasperated. What was the point of denying when there was solid proof that he had been there?

“Very well. You will be held at Samson Prison until the court date, then-“

“Can I talk to Officer Donna?”

“Donna? Why?” Ketch blurted, stunned by his request. 

“I need to talk to her. Please. Sir,” he added, looking up at Ketch through his eyelashes. The grey-haired man cleared his throat and nodded, saying that yes, he supposed that he could talk to her. 

“Thank you.” 

The sharp sound that erupted as Ketch pulled out his chair cut through Dean’s brain. He listened to the offices outside the room as the door was opened, but it disappeared again when it closed. With a deep exhale Dean straightened up in the wheelchair, cursing the damn thing then silently thanking it. Walking on crutches would be a bitch. 

“Dean, what are you doing here? Ketch told me-“ Donna’s voice was familiar and a welcome sound, and Dean snorted as he saw her expression. He lifted his hands to show the cuffs that were digging into his skin. 

“What have you done?” she growled, eyeing him up and down. 

“I’ve watched something close to 20 movies in the four days that I’ve been out of the hospital.”

“You weren’t caught for piracy-“

“Legal DVD’s only, I can’t believe you’d think something like that of me.” Donna shook her head and gestured at his hands. 

“What then? Why are you here?”

“Apparently my quite illegal activities at the shut-down shopping mall have been reported.”

“You’re one of the guys that’s been hanging out at the mall?”

“Yep, quite a nice place, actually. Not as crowded as West Side Market.”

“What were you thinking? Youknow that you’re hanging on by a thread right now!”

“Hey, I haven’t been there in over a month. You promised me that all of my earlier crimes would be-“

“Yes, the crimes that we were aware of. You never told me about this!” Dean sheepishly turned his gaze down, realizing that she was right. 

“So what, I’m going to be sent to jail now?”

“You just might. Jesus Christ, Dean, this was stupid. Even by your standards.”

“But you’re not going to let this happen, right?” Donna’s frown grew deeper and she stood up, muttering something to herself. 

“Donna, please. Youknow I can’t go back there. I have like, six months left in school.”

She reached the door, put her hand on it, and looked back at him across her shoulder with gritted teeth. 

“You should have thought about that before you decided to break the law.” 

Dean felt his blood run cold. 

He was going back to Samson. 


	21. Chapter 21

So. His boyfriend might be going back to prison. 

Brilliant. 

Cas and Jody were on their way to the police station, because say what you want about Jody Mills, but there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her nephew and everyone he cared about. 

Cas couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, because the situation was just so extremely, absurdly bizarre. 

_Dean_ was at the _police station_ , _under arrest_ , and if things didn’t go his way – which they usually didn’t, as Cas had been unfortunate enough to learn – he would be going to _prison_. _Dean. To prison_. 

Cas laughed. Jody took his hand, and he cried a bit. 

“We’ll get him out of this, don’t you worry,” Jody said firmly as they entered the police station. Cas followed her in a haze as she located Donna, the same police officer that had questioned Dean at the hospital after his “accident”. 

“How’s Sam doing?” Cas could make out her voice despite being distracted by the fact that _Dean_ might be going back to _prison_. He listened to his aunt’s reply before interrupting them. He wanted to see Dean, to make sure that he was alright. 

“He’s at a friend’s house so he doesn’t know yet. I figured it’d be best to not tell him until we know more about what is going on.”

“Can I see him?” Cas said, and now Donna turned to him. 

“I’m afraid not, Cas. Only police officers and attorneys can talk to him now, at least until some things have cleared up. He didn’t deny the charges, but the fact that he has helped us get the names of some of Cleveland’s most wanted might be enough to get him out. However, as for now, I don’t know more than you do. I was just about to go to my superior to discuss it with him.” 

“We’ll wait out here then.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you get in touch with Sam, tell him that nothing’s certain yet. Dean’s already set on going back to Samson, but I don’t think we should lose all hope just yet.”

When she returned half an hour later, they had not called Sam and Cas’s level of hope had decreased with every passing minute. More than anything, Cas couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Dean was a criminal. Being forced into dealing drugs was one thing, but breaking into a shopping mall? He couldn’t exactly bargain his way out of that. 

“Good news is that an attorney has arrived to help Dean. Bad news is that so has the DA,” Donna said by way of greeting. “They’re headed to question him now, and I have to be present since I’m responsible for his last case.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Jody sighed, clasping a hand onto Cas’s shoulder. He welcomed the contact since it stopped him from falling facedown onto the ground. 

“At the moment, no. I’m afraid you’ll just have to let us do our jobs. And Cas?” she said, gaining his attention. “I’ll do everything I can to keep him out of prison. Do you understand?” 

“Thank you,” he breathed. It was all too late anyways.

≤•≥

“My name is Dean.”

“Your full name, please. For the record.”

“Dean Winchester.” He tried his best to hide the fact that his entire torso was pulsating madly, but he could see that Donna noticed. He wondered if she knew about the scars. 

“And Mr. Winchester, you have been accused of breaking and entering a facility owned by the government, specifically Southside Shopping Mall.” 

“I don’t deny it, if that’s what you want from me.” 

“You don’t deny that you’ve been at Southside Shopping Mall without permission?”

“No.” Dean observed the DA as she scribbled some words on a pad of paper in front of him. She seemed too young to be an attorney already, she was lean, blonde, and her suit looked like it belonged on a runway compared to the oversized thing that Dean’s appointed attorney was wearing. 

Mr. Fitzgerald, as he had introduced himself, was a young man with no ring on his left hand and glasses that he lifted with his right index finger as he was reading Dean’s file. 

There were pictures in his file. Dean had never registered that someone had taken pictures of him. The thought that it had been done while he had been unconscious made him uneasy, but what was he supposed to do? Steal them? 

He glanced at the file as Mr. Fitzgerald was reading, but looked away the split second he saw a picture. His scars looked even worse as they were being lit up by a flash. 

With fingers that were none too gentle he drummed at his lower right ribs, willing the pain away. 

_Not now_ , he thought. He had other more pressing matters to deal with. 

Like, say, for instance, not going to prison. For all he knew, Alastair was still there. 

Donna stood from her little chair in the back of the room, stretched inconspicuously, and walked up to the table where she stood with her feet wide apart and her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Alright, we all know why we’re here. There’s no point in beating around the bush. Fitzgerald and I are keen on keeping Dean out of prison, while you, Ms. Ruby, seem quite interested in sending him back there.”

“It’s a serious crime, breaking and entering-“

“Technically, you’re wrong there. For it to be classified as “breaking and entering”, the accused must have entered a facility without permission, and with the purpose to steal something. There is not a single piece of evidence that says that Dean has removed something from its original place,” Mr. Fitzgerald interrupted, and Dean felt like giving him a high five. Take _that_ , Ruby. 

Ruby mumbled a little and searched through her notes. With a disquietingly triumphant smile she cleared her throat and gave them a quick look. 

“I have a testimony from an eyewitness, who said, and I quote: “he picked something up from the floor, threw it through a glass window and continued until he had broken at least ten windows”. That’s destruction of-“

“I never did that!” Dean exclaimed, having run through the event in his head. “Who the hell said that? Who’s your fucking witness?”

“Dean!” Mr. Fitzgerald and Donna hissed simultaneously, but Dean barely heard them. 

“It’s Crowley fucking MacLeod, isn’t it? That piece of- He’s the one who broke those windows, not me. He’s trying to-“

“Dean!” Donna said sharply, and he fell silent, his temper red hot. He had admitted that he wasn’t very fond of Crowley, but he’d never done anything but be a little cold towards him. Not exactly something that he thought was enough to want to send someone to prison.

On the other hand, Crowley had always been a drama-queen. 

“This entire thing is fucked up.” Dean muttered.

“Dean, for the last time: Mind. Your. Language.” Donna explained, and gave him a look that told him that she was serious. He took a deep breath and tried to push the anger out together with the phantom pains. He wasn’t rather successful at either thing. As inconspicuously as he could, he pressed the heel of his hand into his side and brought up the memory of what it had felt like when Cas’s hands had massaged his tense muscles. 

He hid a smile as Mr. Fitzgerald cleared his throat. 

“As I see it we have two options. Take this to court and let a jury decide, or make a deal. Dean, what else can you give us? Anything?”

He shook his head. 

Then he stopped, mid-shake. 

_Anna Bradbury_ , he thought. If Asmodeus was the king of drugs in Cleveland, and Lisa was the queen, then Anna was the princess. Not only that, the last time he met her she had been both a prostitute and a first-class drug dealer. 

However, she was missing at the moment. And why did he know that?

Because she was Charlie’s sister. 

Frustration pooled in his stomach once again, and he felt sick. Surely, there was someone else. Someone he had forgotten to mention the last time. Someone that was bad enough to buy him the freedom that he so desperately yearned for.

Unfortunately, his mind was blank. 

With a groan he leaned backwards and met Donna’s eyes.

”I need to make a phone-call,” he sighed. 

”Jody and Cas are in my office, I’ll go-”

”They’re not the ones I need to talk to.” Confusion appeared in the form of two lines between Donna’s sculpted eyebrows, but she pulled out a cell phone from her left pocket. 

”We have to be present,” she explained before he had time to ask for some privacy. 

”Right. Under arrest and all that shit.” He could see the flicker of a smile on her face before she turned her gaze down and shook her head. 

Dean searched his memory for Charlie’s phone number. When he was confident that he’d gotten it right he pressed the call button and lifted the phone towards his ear.

_Please, don’t pick up,_ he thought as he listened to the hollow dialing tone. 

”Charlie Bradbury,” a familiar voice erupted through the phone, and Dean exhaled hard. 

”This is Dean.”

”Dean? I thought I’d saved your number.”

”This isn’t my phone.”

”Whose phone is it then?” 

”It’s-” Dean began, but stopped as he met Mr. Fitzgerald’s eyes. It was time to get to the point. ”Have you heard anything from your sister?”

”No, why?” she said wearily. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

”I’m at the police station, and if I don’t give them some more names I’ll be sent to prison.”

”Dean, don’t. Please don’t tell them about her,” she pleaded, voice bordering on hysterical.

”I can’t think of anyone else. And I can’t go back to prison.” 

”But you can’t just give her up! Please!”

”I’m so sorry.” 

”Dean!”

He almost hung up on her. But how could he do that? All he could think of was what he would have done if he’d been in her position, and Sam was the one facing an arrest. 

”Damn it, what am I supposed to do? Huh? Do you think that I want to do this fucking shit?”

”Language, Dean,” Donna hissed angrily. He rolled his eyes at her. 

”I don’t know, I really don’t. But please leave my sister out of this.”

”Then I guess I’ll see you in a year or two.” 

”Shut it. There’s got to be something you can do for them. Anything.” 

_Yes,_ he though. A _s a Matter of fact, there is_.

”Thank you.”

”For what?”

”I know what to do know.”

”Going by the tone of your voice I’m going to guess that it doesn’t involve my sister?”

”No. It doesn’t.”

”So what was that all about? What have you got for us?” the DA asked, impatient after having to wait the few minutes that the phone call had lasted. Dean glanced at her smugly, hoping that she would be pleased with what he was about to say.

”You don’t give a shit about any names I can give you, because you already have to one you want. Asmodeus Riley.” 

”Well, that doesn’t really matter since he’s vanished from the earth’s surface.”

”You can’t find him. I can.” 

”What are you suggesting?” The DA perked up a little at his words, and leaned forwards unintentionally. Dean tilted his head and met the intense gaze. 

”If you let me go and drop all the charges against me, I will find Asmodeus for you.” 

”Yeah?” the DA scoffed, shaking her head. ”How were you planning on doing that?” Dean leaned back in his chair and spread his arms out in front of him in a nonchalant gesture. 

”I know people that you don’t know. I’m not a cop. Come on, what have you got to lose?”

”You?”

”A disorderly teenager? Nothing compared to Cleveland’s drug master.” 

He could see that he’d convinced her, Ruby looked about ready to kiss him for promising to locate Asmodeus. Ideas of what he would do if he actually found him were an unpleasant distraction in his mind. 

”You have ten days, and unless you have a single lead by then, I’ll send you straight back behind bars. Are we clear?”

≤•≥

Since Cas had expected that the next time he saw Dean there would be a bulletproof sheet of glass between them, he barely believed his eyes when his boyfriend approached him in his wheelchair, hands free and a lopsided grin on his face. 

”Come here so I can kiss you,” were the first words he said, and Cas was quick to obey. He watched, stunned, as Jody got a back-breaking hug, and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. 

”What just happened?” he chuckled, pressing another kiss to Dean’s lips before he could answer. 

”I made a deal with the DA. Let’s go before she changes her mind.” 

Cas rolled a chatty Dean to Jody’s car, but once the engine was rumbling he returned to his more somber self. When he noticed that he was being observed, he gave him a weak smile. 

God, he wanted things to be alright. To be at least one step closer to _normal_ , not that things had ever been normal between them. But whatever Dean had done had to have been tough for him, considering the state he was in at the moment. Cas wondered if he would ever tell him about it. Probably not, if he knew him right. 

”We haven’t told Sam yet, so you’ll have some explaining to do once we get home,” Jody said softly, interrupting Cas’s thoughts. He was not at all interested in being present during that conversation. Maybe he could take Bucky out for a walk,the poor dog deserved some attention. Maybe he’d go to Benny’s, it felt as if he hadn’t seen him for weeks. Maybe-

”Where’s your mind at?” Dean called softly. He’d taken his hand. Cas couldn’t decide whether he wanted to accept it or not. 

Dean’s dark eyes were brighter than usual. The sliver of green in them stood out with the light from every car that passed by.

_I love you_. 

”What did you have to do? To be set free?” he asked. The pain that flashed on Dean’s face was enough for him to regret the question. 

”I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, turning his head away but keeping Cas’s hand locked in his. 

”Of course you don’t.”

”Cas,” Jody warned, hearing the tone in his voice that Dean seemed to have discarded. And Cas should have left it at that. He should have been patient and given Dean’s hand a squeeze, telling him that things would be okay. 

But how could he do that? 

”Why would you want to talk about it? I mean, when do you ever want to talk about anything? You don’t want to talk about your parents. You don’t want to talk about the scars. You don’t want to talk about the fact that you neither sleep nor eat because you’re afraid of something, that, oh, guess what? You don’t want to talk about!” 

” _Cas_!” Jody exclaimed furiously. He hadn’t even noticed it, but she had stopped the car on the side of the road and was half turned around in her seat. She was fuming. 

Cas looked over at Dean, who was not looking at him, but clutching at the intimidatingly gorgeous scars that covered his torso. His fingernails looked dangerously close to tearing through his shirt. 

They were no longer holding hands. 

”I’ll just walk from here,” Cas said quietly, getting out of the car before either of the two had time to make up a coherent thought. 

Cas had never been a talkative person. Being bullied during your entire childhood would do that to you. 

In Cas’s case, it had also taught him that some people were good for you, while others were not. 

Which of the groups Dean belonged to, he couldn’t decide. 

He loved him fiercely, more than he’d ever loved anybody. That alone scared him to a point where he didn’t know what to do with himself, he only knew that he had to be with him, to never leave him. And still, lately it seemed like all he ever did was push him away. His heart was torn apart and he couldn’t decide whether to ignore it or try to salvage the few remaining pieces.

”Enough with the pouting,” he muttered, eyeing the street ahead of him. He was only a few blocks away from West Side Market, and he couldn’t resist going there. 

As the familiar building loomed in front of him, roof lined with snow and icicles and christmas lights, he felt more at home than he’d done in a long time. Jo’s laughter returned to him with the soft wind that tugged at his coat, willing him to go inside. 

How he wanted to follow that voice. To sit at the empty booth, legs dangling from the edge of the counter, consuming a chocolate muffin and a story from his friend simultaneously. However he would never do that again. Missing Jo had become a full-time occupation, and everything that had once been _their_ thing to do was now too painful to endure. 

More painful than not knowing the full story behind Dean’s scars. How could he stand there, in the cold, moping about his dead friend when he had another friend just a few minutes away that he had discarded completely because of his own stubbornness? 

Suddenly the urge to see Dean blinded him, and he looked around in search for a bus stop, anything to get him home quicker. Jo was dead. But Dean was alive, and for now, nothing was more important. 

≤•≥

Dean somehow managed to talk Jody into driving to his house, despite nearly fainting from the unbelievable flames in his side. She apologized for Cas’s behavior, and tried to come up with some excuse that neither of them believed. Then she tried to convince him to go to the hospital, since he apparently was ’alarmingly pale’. 

He told her that all he needed was a bit of sun. She nearly laughed. Nearly. 

West 50th street was as sepia-toned as always, never quite as vivid as the rest of the city. Dean didn’t know why he’d wanted to go there, and he didn’t know whether or not he wanted to go inside once they had arrived. 

”It’s a nice house,” Jody commented, trying to break the brick wall of ice that surrounded them. 

”No, it’s not.”

”I agree that it could use a new coat of paint, perhaps a new window-”

”It’s not a very nice house.” As he said it, he finally understood. He understood why Sam had always dreaded going home after school, why he’d spent every second locked up in his room where the walls were at least somewhat personal and the air wasn’t as difficult to breathe as it was in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, even Dean and Jo’s room. 

It wasn’t a nice house at all. It represented the fear and anger that had ruled most of Dean’s childhood, and it had nothing to do with the fleeting memories of better days that would pass by every now and then. 

”Do you want to go inside? I could go with you,” Jody offered, but Dean shook his head no. Expressing anything except through motions was impossible at the moment. 

”Do you want to go home?” He nodded. Yes. More than anything, he wanted to get away from that cursed house. 

 

A week passed, and Dean made no real attempts at finding Asmodeus. He and Sam spent Christmas with Jody and Cas, and no one spoke of the fact that Cas’s family showed no signs of wanting to contact him. 

The Spotify playlist that Dean had made for Cas seemed meager next to the statute of Treebeard in _the Two Towers_ that he got, but Cas assured him that he loved it. 

They didn’t exactly speak about the fight. Cas apologized, but Dean could tell that his heart wasn’t into it. After all, how could he apologize for something he didn’t regret? 

Eating was still one of Dean’s least favorite things to do, but now that they were off from school and Jody was on Christmas break, family dinners were mandatory. 

The silent clatter of silverware against plates would have been comical in any other situation. However, Jody, being Jody, did her best to start a conversation. Any conversation. 

”So, Sam, do you have any wishes for what to do on New Year’s?”

”Not really. We can just do whatever you usually do.” 

”This is actually mine and Cas’s first New Year’s together, so there aren’t any traditions.” 

”What did you do last year?” Cas chimed in, stuffing his mouth with spaghetti. 

”I was at work,” she replied with an eye roll. Dean glanced at his plate and started moving the pasta around with his fork, as if he was about to take a bite. When he noticed that three pairs of eyes were on him, he shrugged and forced a smile. 

”How about we go to the harbor and watch the fireworks?” he suggested, and tuned out Jody’s voice as she recapped a New Year’s celebration with her collage friends years ago. 

Just as he thought that they had managed to avoid an awkward evening, his phone buzzed in his pocket. With a smile as an excuse he grabbed the crutches that he had now begun to use and hopped away to the living room. 

”This is Dean,” he replied, absently scratching the edge of the cast on his leg. 

”Hello, Dean. Donna Hanscum here.” He winced, knowing that she would want an update on how he was doing concerning Asmodeus. For a split second he considered hanging up. 

”How can I help you?”

”The DA’s been busting my ass, trying to get some information on your progress. Is there any progress?”

”I’m working on it.”

”Well work harder. You’ve got four days before I have to arrest you.” 

”Donna, we both know that I won’t find him in four days.”

”Then why did you claim that you could?” Dean smiled at the exasperation in her voice, completely aware of how annoying he was at the moment. But there was no way to answer her questions. 

”I don’t know. I guess I wanted to buy some time.” 

”You fool, listen to me. I believe you can find him. Do you hear me? I believe you’ve got something up your sleeve that will help you, because I don’t want to be around watching you get sent back to Samson. It will destroy you.”

”I’m fucking aware of that last bit, thank you,” he muttered, clamping his eyes shut. There had to be something. Some piece of information he’d overlooked, some hiding place he hadn’t told the police about. 

”I don’t know enough about him,” he said at last. It was the regrettable truth. 

”Then find someone who does. Don’t give up.” 

”I-” he began, but cut himself off. Because he did know someone who’d know exactly where Asmodeus was. Someone who’d know how to find him. 

It was time to pay a visit to John. 

 

The only reason that John wasn’t behind bars already was because the police couldn’t find him, and the only reason they couldn’t do that was because they were stupid enough to think that his house would be the last place he’d go. 

Dean knew enough about his father to know that it was the one place he’d be. At the ridiculously early hour of three am, Dean sneaked out of the house without waking anyone, and began his slow journey to the nearest street where he’d be able to find a cab. 

Twenty minutes later, he stood in front of 3415 West 50th street. His home, even though he’d never quite admitted that. The place he’d been brought to after he’d been born. The place where he had waited impatiently as his sister, and then his brother, had been brought home. 

The place where his mother had died, in a house fire that had left a permanent smell of smoke inside. 

The place where his father had become an alcoholic and had beaten him, over and over again, without the neighbors ever wondering about the screams that would be heard at various hours of the day. 

Dean braced himself and went inside. The door was unlocked. 

”Dad?” he called, leaving the door open behind him. Not that he would be able to outrun his dad on crutches. He walked through the kitchen into the living room, his heart left somewhere on the sidewalk outside. 

”John?” he tried, giving the closed bedroom doors a quick glance. He wouldn’t be in there. He would be upstairs. 

Hauling himself up the stairs with the crutches in one hand was an exhausting and loud process, but he managed it. When both of his feet were safely on the second floor, he bent his head down and covered his nose and mouth for a moment, in an attempt at getting used to the smell.

It was pitch black up there, and the sour scent of alcohol, sweat and vomit burned its way through his nostrils and seemed to attach itself to his skin. 

John Winchester had definitely seen better days. 

”John? Dad?” Dean tried again, approaching the open bedroom door. The chaos beyond it was not something he wanted to see, but how could he turn back now? 

 

_When Dean went to open the door, going through the list in his head of people that would occasionally come and visit them, Cas was not on his mind. However, there he was, in person, his dark hair standing out in each and every direction, his cheeks red from the cold wind that nipped at them._

_”Hey,” Dean said with a smile, laughing internally at Cas’s frown._

_”Hey,” he copied, and came inside._

 

”Dad? I’m coming inside,” Dean continued, and stuck his head inside the room. Clothes, empty whiskey bottles, broken glass, shoes and used cigarettes littered every inch of the floor and the furniture, except for a corner of the little table by the window where remnants of a white powder could be seen. Dean looked away. He didn’t want to, didn’t _need_ to see the mess that was his father. However, the thought of Sam, Cas, Jody, hell, even fucking _graduation_ was enough for him to continue. 

The dark shape on the bed shuffled slightly, and with a strength he’d thought was beyond him, Dean placed a hand on what he reckoned was a shoulder, and shook it firmly. 

”Dad.” 

The shape that was John shuffled again, moved a bit more forcefully, and suddenly a face appeared, with two small eyes that weren’t ready to be opened, along with a stubbled chin. 

”Dean?” a deep voice rumbled, confused but not annoyed. 

”We need to talk.” 

”Dean, where the hell have you been? Where is Sam?”

”He’s safe. He’s with another family.” 

”Another family, huh? Like ours isn’t good enough?” he spat, and Dean had to take a step back to keep from throwing up. 

”I need your help.” 

”My help? _My_ help? Why the fuck would I help you?” 

”Because I’ll be going back to Samson if you don’t.” 

”Which you probably deserve.” Dean closed his eyes and pushed back the dangerous emotions that threatened to burst out at any moment. He wanted to hate him, he wanted to beat him, punch him, kill him with his bare hands, but he couldn’t. Because just as he’d told Sam, the stinking mess of a man in front of him, that had not shown him a single ounce of compassion in the last five years, was still his father. 

”Where is Asmodeus? I know that you know.” 

”It’s none of your goddamn business, after what you did. Did you think that you could sell us out without us noticing?” John began to move closer to the edge of the bed, sitting up simultaneously. The warning bells in Dean’s head immediately went off, knowing what to expect. 

”I did it for Sam. I did it for this city. Damn it, I did it for you!”

”What the hell are you talking about?”

”You need help, dad. You can’t go on like this forever.” 

”What if I can?” he exclaimed, and got to his feet. As he walked towards the door, Dean refused to move. 

”Please, stop. Think about mom, and Jo. Just stop.” 

”Get out of my way, boy.”

”No.”

”No? How were you planning on stopping me?” Before Dean could answer, an enhanced voice was heard through the cracks in the windows. 

”John Winchester, you are under arrest. Come outside with your hands above your head.” 

”You called the cops on me?” John growled, his fist already forming. However, Dean was faster. 

Delivering that punch was probably the most satisfying thing Dean had ever experienced. 

 

”Thanks for calling the cops and, you know, saving my ass,” Dean mumbled into Cas’s neck a while later. They were sitting on the porch of Dean’s house, watching as the sun greeted them with a good morning. 

”I figured you’d try something after that phone call from Donna.” 

”Still, thank you.” Cas tightened his grip on him, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

”I’m still mad at you,” he sighed in between two kisses. 

”I know.” 

”Just not right now.” 

”Not right now,” Dean copied, liking the sound of that. 

”Does this mean that you’re free?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean stiffened at his words. No. It meant nothing until John told them about Asmodeus, and who knew how long that could take? More than three days, that was for certain. He said as much to Cas, who refused to share his sullenness. 

”Then we just have to make him talk! I bet you could convince him to.” 

”I can’t.” 

”What if Sam spoke to him? Maybe he could say something that-”

”Sam is not going to go near him,” he hissed, and expected Cas to let go of him, but he only tightened his embrace. 

”Then it’s up to you. Tell him that you can’t go back to prison, that you have to finish school.” 

”He won’t care. He hates my guts.” At that, Cas fell silent for a few moments. They watched the police officers that had been clearing out John’s ridiculous stash of drugs leave, and soon the two of them were alone. 

”Why won’t you fight?” Cas asked at last. Dean didn’t know how to reply to that. ”Why won’t you fight for me? And for Sam?”

”I guess I’m just tired of fighting.” 

”Then I’ll do it for you, but you’ve got to give me something. Anything that could make John listen.” 

_The scars_ , he thought, but it was a thought that he quickly discarded. John wouldn’t care about them. Why would he? They were just a part of the son that he despised. 

 

The twenty-four hours that passed until John had sobered up enough to be questioned passed by in a blur. Dean slept better than he’d like to admit, partly because Cas had been sleeping next to him. 

Dean wasn’t present during the first questioning, since he was still on the DA’s bad side and didn’t want to stir things up more by breaking John’s nose. 

Donna came to them afterwards, with a grim expression. 

”He didn’t say a single word for forty-five minutes. If he didn’t freak me out so much, I’d be impressed.”

”The stubbornness of the Winchesters,” Dean mumbled, smiling weakly as Sam rolled his eyes at the statement. 

”They’re going to continue tomorrow. And Dean?”

”What?”

”I really think you should be there. You can help.” 

”I don’t think so.” Donna sighed, running a hand through the hair that was not tied up in a bun for once. It was longer than Dean had thought. 

”Call me if you change your mind. And tell Jody I said hi,” she finished, the last words directed towards Cas, who stood behind Dean. He nodded at her and like that she was gone. 

”Bucky needs a walk,” Cas said absently, and reached for his coat. Sam must have noticed the look of regret on Dean’s face, because he quickly pushed himself in between Cas and the front door. 

”I’ll take him.” 

”Are you sure?” Cas frowned, letting his hand drop to his side. 

”Uh-huh,” Sam mumbled, already putting his shoes on. Dean gave him a smile and hoped that the gratitude shone through, and made his way to the living room. The front door opened and closed, and seconds later Cas sat beside him on the couch. 

”Movie?”

”Please.” Cas grabbed the TV-remote and started Netflix, while Dean put the crutches on the floor and made himself comfortable in the corner seat of the couch. 

”Any suggestions?”

”We never got around to watching _the Two Towers_ ,” he suggested, with no objections from Cas. They cuddled up next to each other, forgetting about the little thing called ’personal space’. Warm skin against skin was more important. 

They delved into the plot, and the relief of not having to worry about sober dads, police officers and PCSA-men. Cas snuggled his cheek impossibly close to Dean’s chest, but he didn’t mind.

”My grandma loved these movies,” he surprised himself by revealing. He could feel that Cas glanced up at him, but kept his eyes glued to the TV. 

”What happened to her?”

”Lung cancer,” he replied, as if it wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world to say. 

”Oh, really?” Cas exclaimed, and if Dean would have been asked to describe the tone of his voice with one word he would have used ’joyful’. 

”That was so not the kind of response I was expecting.”

”Of course not, I’m sorry.” He paused to take a breath before adding, ”It’s just that Jody’s husband died of lung cancer five years ago.”

”Jody’s been married?”

”For four years, until he died.”

”What was his name?”

”Philip. He was such a cool guy, the few times we met we got along really well. Jody took his death quite well, actually, but then again I guess they both had time to prepare for it. He was sick for a long time.”

”Grandma was diagnosed when I was twelve. After that she mostly travelled back and forth to the hospital for two years, and when everyone knew that she was going to die at any moment we were allowed to take her home. She’d wished to die far away from doctors and machines and all that.” 

”That sounds nice,” Cas said quietly. They were interrupted by the front door opening, and a split second later they were greeted by a cold nose and wet paws. Dean let out an undignified noise that caused both Cas and Sam to start laughing, while Cas was trying to push the dog away. 

”Bucky, get down!” he ordered, laughing hard. He pulled half-heartedly at the leash that was still attached to his necklace, but Bucky didn’t move until Sam stepped in and brought him back to the front door. 

”I’m so sorry, he just bolted in!”

”Yeah, he does that. Keep him there and I’ll bring a towel.”

”What about me?” Dean exclaimed, eyeing the wet paw prints on his sweatshirt and on the couch. Cas glanced at him and discarded his complaints. 

”You look fine to me,” he laughed, blowing him a kiss. 

”The hell I do,” Dean muttered to himself, already alone in the living room. He made sure to pause the movie before he reached for the crutches and hopped to the bathroom, where he pulled the sweatshirt off. It was covered with big splotches of mud and snow.

”Fucking mess,” he scoffed, putting it in the bathtub to rinse the worst of the mud away. Feeling exquisitely flexible, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, pulled up the right leg of his pants, put his right foot on the floor of the bathtub and reached for the hose. 

Just as he was bending over to unfold the sweatshirt, the door to the bathroom opened and Cas stepped in, laughter still on his face until his eyes met Dean’s and his gaze was drawn to Dean’s bare chest. 

And for the first time, Dean just wanted Cas to know everything. He wanted him to know about the cause of the scars. He wanted him to know about the months in prison that he’d spent being constantly afraid of Alastair. 

He wanted him to be able to walk in on him when he wasn’t wearing a shirt without wanting to tear his guts out. 

”I’m sorr-”

”Shut up,” Dean growled, closing his eyes. 

_Could he do this?_

”I was just going to leave the towel, I’ll-”

”Just hold on for one fucking minute and let me breathe.” He could imagine how Cas’s mouth clamped shut, the way it would do when he was annoyed. 

_I love you_. 

Didn’t he want Cas to love all of him? Shouldn’t the scars be a part of that too? He exhaled involuntarily, letting out a deep breath that he’d been restraining. If Cas had had a torso covered with scars, Dean would probably have been obsessed by them. He loved flaws, loved unique parts of a person that made them all the more extraordinary. 

Why shouldn’t he include himself in that? 

Slowly, he turned off the tap and dropped the hose. The sound as it hit the bathtub was multiplied by the resonance in the metal.

”Come here,” he said, lifting his hand towards the one he trusted with his life.Cas wasn’t one to object, so he stepped closer and soon his cold fingers were in touch with Dean’s clammy palm. When he was close enough for Dean to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, Dean pulled his wet right leg over the edge of the bathtub so he was facing Cas straight on. 

He closed his eyes and let his hands drop to his sides.

”You can touch me,” he said at last, when he knew that Cas had taken a closer look. After a moment of what could only have been hesitation, fingers spurred a reaction from the damaged nerve ends on Dean’s chest, a surprisingly pleasant bolt of lightning that spread under his skin. 

For how long they stayed in there, Dean couldn’t tell. However, for some reason it was okay for Cas to touch and see his scars, because he’d made it okay. He’d decided to show him, instead of being forced into it, which made it a little easier to cope with. 

”Let’s go to the living room,” Dean mumbled at last, lost in the adoration that shot through Cas’s fingertips and into the marred skin. 

”We should probably finish the movie.” 

” _The Lord of The Rings_ can wait. I need to tell you and Sam something.” 

 

Sam took the news of Dean’s _real_ experience at Samson quite hard. By the time he was describing how he’d been held down in the kitchen his brother was already in tears, and when the cause of Dean’s scars became known to the both of them, they were all messes of wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. 

”Why didn’t you tell me?” was Sam’s toughest question, to which Dean could only respond by repeating that he’d been scared. That he still was. Cas seemed surprisingly composed through his tears, a steadiness that Dean appreciated. He placed a hand on the scars on Dean’s arm and closed his eyes, waterfalls slipping through his eyelids. 

”Someone did this to you?” he said weakly. Just to get it confirmed. Just one last shimmer of hope that it wasn’t the truth. 

”Yes.”

”How-” he gritted his teeth, unable to even finish the sentence. ”How could someone do something like this?” 

”It’s okay,” Dean soothed, and he felt like it should have been the other way around, but somehow it felt good to be needed. He took a refreshing breath and reacted at the sounds on the porch just as Bucky was pointing his ears in that direction. ”I hate to break the mood, but someone’s at the door,” he smiled, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

”I’ll get it,” Cas mumbled, copying Dean’s motions. As he stood up, Dean and Sam followed him to the door, Dean’s arm around his little brother’s shoulders. 

”I’m so sorry, kid,” he said, ruffling his hair slightly. 

When he turned to look at whoever was behind the door, he was not expecting to see Cas standing there. 

”Dad?” Cas scoffed in disbelief. Of course it wasn’t Cas on both sides of the threshold, but Cas and his salt and pepper-haired and bright-eyed father. 

 

Chuck Novak was how he introduced himself. His smile was visibly forced as he greeted Dean and learned that he was his son’s boyfriend, but he was clearly not there to make any trouble. 

”What are you doing here?” Cas asked as they had all sat down on the living room couch. Chuck eyed Bucky suspiciously, before turning his gaze towards Sam, then Dean, and lastly, Cas. 

”Merry Christmas?” he suggested, making a little sound as he seemed to remember something. Delicately, he pulled out an envelope from his suit pocket, looked at it, and gave it to Cas. 

”Open it when I’ve left. It’s a sort of peace offering, if you will.” 

”Dad, don’t get me wrong, it’s good to see you, but I don’t understand why you’re here. I’m not going back.” 

”I think I’m beginning to realize that now,” Chuck mumbled, with a pointed look at Dean. ”To be honest, I was hoping that you wouldn’t be home so I could just leave the gift here, but, oh well. You’re an adult, and I’m sorry about our…disagreements. But I think that both of us need more time apart before we can make peace. Don’t you agree?”

”Sure, but-”

”It was good to see you too, son, but I’m not going to stay. Not until you want me here.” 

He was gone as quickly as he had come. None of them could really understand what had just happened. 

”Why did he come here?” Cas breathed, staring blank-eyed straight ahead. 

”He probably wanted to wash some dirt off his Christian soul,” Dean muttered, even though he knew it wasn’t exactly the right time to make a joke. 

”It’s not funny, Dean. Why would he come here and then just leave again? It doesn’t make sense. My dad would never do something like that.” 

”Open the gift. Maybe there’s some clue in there,” Sam chimed in, giving Cas a supportive smile. Cas looked at the envelope in his hand, as if he had forgotten that he was holding it in the first place. Slowly, he ripped it open and eyed its contents before pulling them out. 

”What is it?” Dean asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice.

”A letter, and a bracelet.” 

”A bracelet?”

”From Rachel. She used to make these pearl bracelets with words and slogans on them when she was young, and then she’d sell them. They were quite popular at school.”

”So? What does it say?” Cas replied by handing the bracelet to Dean, who recognized the word immediately. 

_Kinderhook_. 

”What’s that?” Sam wondered, tilting his head in confusion. 

”It’s-” Cas began, but he could not quite finish the sentence. 

”It’s something Jo and Cas used to say to each other,” Dean filled in. 

”Have you seen _The Fault in Our Stars_?”

”God, no, isn’t that a girl’s movie?” Sam exclaimed, making both Dean and Cas laugh heartily. 

”Nah, it’s quite good,” Cas said at last. He put the bracelet on his left arm and eyed it adoringly. 

”Merry Christmas,” Dean sighed. 


	22. Chapter 22

Cas didn’t know what to think about his dad’s surprise visit. To tell the truth, he had been relieved to watch him leave before even coming inside the house. 

Jody was his family. Not the conservative, prejudiced bunch of people who cringed every time they admitted that they were related. 

The day after Chuck’ visit, Dean was arrested. Four pm, without warning, with nothing but sirens pounding in their heads after Donna had taken Dean to the police station. 

The DA had grown tired of waiting for Dean to come up with a lead on Asmodeus. They already had John, who on the one hand had spent another fifty minutes of questioning in complete silence, but on the other hand most likely knew where Cleveland’s famous drug-king was. It was only a matter of time before he spoke, as Donna put it. 

However, he didn’t speak. And 24 hours later, even the DA was growing restless. 

Cas was at the police station to visit Dean, where he was locked in a cell until a court date was set. Donna had managed to keep him out of Samson, for the time being.

Just as he stepped through the front doors, a young woman busted out of another set of doors, practically fuming with anger. Before the doors closed, Cas managed to spot the man who could only be John, sharing Dean and Sam’s pale skin and sharp cheekbones. He didn’t look happy. 

”How are you?” Cas asked Dean after giving him a quick kiss through the bars. He looked like he’d lost some weight, even though it had been less than two days since they last saw each other. Maybe the time apart had been enough for Cas’s mental picture of Dean to go back to the way he had looked a month ago. 

”I don’t really know how to reply to that,” Dean said at last, a weak smile on his lips. 

Footsteps approached them and they both greeted Donna as she stopped beside the gate to Dean’s cell. 

”Will you attend John’s questioning?” she said without preamble, putting her hands on her hips and fixing Dean with a firm look that revealed that they had already had this discussion at least once. 

”I’d rather not,” Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair. ”I’d rather never see that man again.”

”He won’t budge. Not for the things we can push him with. I know he’ll listen to you.” 

”Then you don’t know my father,” Dean said with defeat. ”He hates me. He wants nothing to do with me, a mutual feeling. He. Won’t. Listen.” 

Donna refused to be defeated: ”Will you at least try? Or just sit in the room with us?” 

Cas met Dean’s gaze as if he’d known that it would be cast in his direction. Whether his positive nod was enough to make Dean go or not, he couldn’t tell, but at last Dean stood up, grabbed his crutches and gestured at the gate in front of him. 

”Are you going to let me out of this fucking cell or not?”  


Ah. Swearing. The old Dean was back. 

 

The gap between Dean and John was extremely clear as they sat on one end of the table each. The young woman who was the DA, Donna and a grey-haired man that Cas had not seen before sat beside Dean, while a young woman sat beside John. His appointed attorney. 

The questioning had already begun when Cas sneaked into the secret room adjacent to the one the was currently occupied, where he could watch what was going on without being spotted. The voices were audible through a little speaker on the right side of the mirror. 

From what Cas could tell, they weren’t really getting anywhere. 

The DA was the one who led the conversation. 

”Where is Asmodeus?” she said, but she’d already said it too many times. John simply didn’t have the motivation to speak. He wasn’t going to suddenly talk just because Dean was in the room.

”I’m going to ask you again - where is Asmodeus? The man you know as ’the king’?” 

Copper just kept right on staring blankly ahead. 

Not completely straight, as Cas now noticed. His eyes were fixed on something no more than two meters away from him. 

Dean. And Dean was squirming in his seat. 

”Come on, do something!” Cas found himself whispering. He wanted Dean to win this fight. For Cas, Dean going back to prison was not an option - there had to be something they could do to stop it. Dean had to fight. 

”Unless you talk, John, your son will go to prison for a minimum of five years,” the DA continued. Dean’s eyes stared blankly ahead. 

”You’ve been accused of a series of serious crimes yourself, John. Talking might just be a way for you to lessen your punishment.” 

”He’s not going to say a word,” Dean muttered, loud enough for all of them, including Cas, to hear. John grinned slyly at his words, but stayed silent. 

”Your son is going to prison. You’re going to prison. What do you think will happen to Sam?” Donna tried, leaning forwards across the table. She enticed a flicker of worry through John’s eyes, which was quickly discarded. However, it had been enough for Cas to know that John wasn’t the cold-hearted bastard that Dean had made him out to be. He cared about his sons. It might have been hidden underneath a thick smoke-screen of drugs and alcohol, but he still cared. Sobriety had been the key to unlocking that fact about him. 

Cas bolted out of the observation-room and out into the corridor beyond it. He forced himself to keep his steps slow in an effort to not draw attention to himself, and the mile-long corridor finally ended with the door to Donna’s office. Cas closed the door behind him and walked around the desk, where he sifted through the various files and stacks of papers. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he turned to the filing cabinet beside the desk and pulled the middle handle quite brusquely in frustration. Inside, he found a large number of folders, each with a name on. 

It didn’t take long for him to find the one marked ’Winchester, Dean’. He cast a quick look at the door to make sure that the noise he’d heard wasn’t of someone heading inside, before he opened the file. There were some written reports of earlier crimes, the longest one describing how Dean had been driving a Ford pickup truck, that had crashed into a tree before he had been arrested due to the 6 hectograms of heroine that had been found in the car. 

The arrest had led to Dean being sentenced to twelve months in prison. 

Cas flipped the pages and stopped here and there, not really knowing if what he was looking for would be there. There were images of the wrecked car, of a Dean with bruises littering his left cheek and neck, and of the Winchester’s house. 

Accounts of Dean’s behavior in prison. Now he was getting somewhere. 

Dean had been described as sardonic, arrogant and haughty, and not someone who the other inmates got along well with. Despite his reputation, he had been cooperative towards the staff and rarely made any trouble, besides a few rows with one ’Alastair,’ during the first few months. Actually, it seemed as though they had been in conflict for most of Dean’s stay at Samson, and as Cas flipped the page again a shiver went down his spine. He had to stabilize himself by holding on to the desk. 

Cas had found exactly what he’d been looking for. He grabbed the folder and ran out of the office towards the interrogation room. 

 

”I told you, he’s not going to say anything,” Dean sighed and leaned back heavily in his chair. 

”Yes, he is,” Cas exclaimed as he burst into the room. Donna immediately got to her feet and seemed to calculate how best to remove Cas from the room, but before she could he’d posted himself behind Dean, who had to crane his neck around to see him. 

”What the hell?” he frowned, but Cas only shook his head. 

”John,” Cas said, aiming his full attention at the older Winchester, who did nothing to show that his name had just been called. 

”You’re going to listen to me, and then you’re going to talk. You will do this, because if you don’t, Dean is going to die.” His words put the room in silence. ”John, your son is an amazing man. I’m lucky enough to have gotten the chance to get to know him, and in fact I’m lucky enough to get to love him. Because I do.” At this, he took hold of Dean’s shaking hand. 

”I’m in love with your son. Maybe because he’s the most unselfish and hard-working guy I’ve ever met. And I know that you’re completely aware of this.” He squeezed Dean’s hand. He was _not_ going to like what he said next. 

”But he’s also fragile. He always tries his best, and if he fails, he makes sure that it’ll never happen again since he hates to lose. He lost his mother when he was very young, and then his sister. This hasn’t exactly been easy on him, but he _tries_. If only you know how much he tries to always be as good as he is on his best days. However, he hasn’t been there in a long time. Because something happened to him.” Dean’s grip faltered, which only made Cas hold his hand tighter. This time, he was not going to run. With a deep breath, he dropped Dean’s folder on the table in front of John and opened it to the page with the detailed photos of Dean’s torso. 

More specifically, the photos were of Dean’s flaming scars. John seemed to be stunned into silence. 

”This happened to Dean in prison. And who knows, this might be what awaits him if he’s forced to go back. He was _tortured_ by the other inmates, and _boiling water_ was poured over his bare skin. He’ll have those scars for the rest of his life.” 

Dean’s head was in his hands, his face towards the floor. Cas could just make out a slight tremor going through his shoulders. 

”I didn’t know-” John stuttered, reaching out towards the photos. ”Dean?” he said quietly. Dean barely lifted his head. ”Is this true? Someone- someone did this to you?” 

Dean nodded slowly, and said, ”I really don’t want to go back,” which enticed a short, sad laugh from John. 

”I’m so sorry, son. If only I’d known, I would’ve-”

”It doesn’t matter. It’s okay, dad.” 

”No, it’s not. Listen, I know that I’ve been a fucked up excuse of a father these last years, but after your mother died, I-” he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, visibly holding back tears, ”I didn’t know what to do. I’d just lost my job, and then my wife, and suddenly I had three kids to take care of and no money. So I got in touch with an old college classmate who offered me a job as a drug-runner. It paid good cash, and eventually I got in contact with Asmodeus.”

”What happened then, huh?” Dean said bitterly. ”How did you go from that to becoming a drunk with a temper bad enough to beat up your own son?” 

”I don’t know. I lost control.”

Cas watched in awe as John’s face softened, looking at Dean as if it was the first time he saw him. 

”You lost control,” Dean echoed at last, closing his eyes briefly. ”I’m not going to be angry with you. You don’t deserve it.” 

Suddenly Dean stood up, nearly knocking the chair and Cas over, and rushed out of the room. John followed his every move, and when he was gone his eyes were glued to the door. 

”I’ll tell you everything you want to know as long as you keep my boy out of prison,” he said heavily. 

Dean and Sam would meet him again, but that was the last time Cas saw John Winchester. 

≤•≥

Two days after John had been sent to Samson, Dean, Sam, Cas, Benny, Charlie, Meg and Kevin sat at the empty booth two rows from the back at West Side Market, each with one of Grandma Campbell’s cupcakes in their hands. Dean had given them a quick update on how John had budged and at last helped Donna and her colleagues find and arrest Asmodeus Riley. 

The air somehow seemed a little easier to breathe after that. 

A letter had arrived from the PCSA with a date and location where Jody and Sam were supposed to go to sign some papers and become a family. With the way the two were bonding, they were already a family. 

Cas was watching Dean now from where he sat on the counter in the empty booth. Mary’s Cinnamon booth. 

His mother’s booth. 

Cas and his friends did not know what had been there before, but maybe Dean would tell them one day. Maybe then they would understand Jo’s obsession with West Side Market, and all the memories that surrounded that place. 

”I was just saying that I’ve got enough money now. I’m going to Australia!” Charlie exclaimed, raising her fists in the air at the expected and well-deserved cheer. Her cheeks were blushed with excitement and Dean had never seen such a huge smile. 

”How long will you be away?” Dean asked.

”Well, the plan is two months, or until I’ve run out of money.” 

”And when are you leaving?”

”I’ve heard that the best time is early spring, so February.” 

”That’s amazing, Charlie,” Meg beamed. 

Cas got to his feet and joined Dean on the counter while the rest of the friends kept talking about Charlie’s adventure. He leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder and took his hand, squeezing it softly. Dean was once again struck by how important this person had become for him. Life before Cas had had its moments, but they were nothing compared to the joy he felt now. 

He felt complete. Strong. And most of all, he was _happy_.

Jo’s life had been too short, too little of everything, but still as good as it could possibly be. Every day Dean had spent with her had been filled with joy and love and insane adventures. And now, those days would be filled with Cas, Sam, Jody, Bucky and his friends instead.

It was quite a way to live.

≤•≥

_Six months later._

Cas’s steps were feather light as he strolled along the sidewalk with Bucky by his side. Once they reached the park, he let the German Shepherd loose, and watched him chase after a butterfly before joining his side underneath one of the large oak trees.

The suit was warm in the dazzling sunlight, and he loosened the tie around his neck, unbuttoning the first button. Allowing himself to relax for a moment, he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. 

Summer, warm weather, Jody, Sam, and best of all: Dean. 

A single whistle reached Cas’s ears, and he looked up just as Bucky bolted from his side to greet Dean. The brown-haired man gave the dog an affectionate cuddle that soon turned into a game that looked dangerously close to ruining Dean’s suit. 

Cas’s right hand absently went to his left wrist, a habit that he’d gained during the last few months. The pearl bracelet that his sister had made was still there, with the letters forming the most painful and important word in the world.

When Jo had died, Cas had been certain that she would have left him something. Anything: a letter, a present, a chocolate bar, a text message, anything. However, seven months had passed since her death, and Cas had finally accepted that 18-year-old girls didn’t carry around a goodbye to their best friend in case they would suddenly die.

The bracelet was heavy against his skin, but it was a good feeling. He could feel that it was _there_ , with him at all times. 

Dean called his name, his teeth showing as he cracked a gorgeous smile. 

”I love you!” he shouted, his voice lost in the wind. Cas could feel the effect that smile had on him, and the warm burst of happiness in his chest. 

_Kinderhook_? 

Yes. He was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is it. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Leave me a comment and tell me what you think of it xx


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